THE  LIBRARY- 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


V 

THE 


CRIMSON  STAR; 

OR, 

THE  MIDNIGHT  VISION. 


A.    ROMANCE    FOUNDED    ON    FACTS. 


BY 

MRS.  SARAH  A.  WRIGHT, 

(OF  VIRGINIA,) 

Author  of  the  "Golden  Ladder;  or,  the  Stolen  Jewel,"  "  Gem  of  the  Lake, 

"  The  Secret  Duel,"  "Slandtr  and  its  Victims," 

"Who  Shall  be  President^  Etc. 


NEW  YORK : 

MASONIC  AND  MISCELLANEOUS  PUBLISHING  CO., 

D.  SICKELS  &  CO.,  MANAGERS, 

No.  2  BI.EECKKR  STREET. 

1875. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  In  the  year  1875,  by 

MRS.  SARAH  A.  WRIGHT, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


UNRI,  LITTLE  ft  Co., 

TEES,   KLKCTROTVPKRS   AND   STE 

108  TO  114  WOOBTK  Srm««r,  N.  Y. 


Ps 


TO 

e 

@>i- 


5         OF    THE   LAUREL   HOUSE,  CAUTERSKILL   FALLS, 

QE 
OQ 

AND 


>  OF     THE     GRANT     HOUSE,    CATSKILL, 

THIS    WORK    IS    RESPECTFULLY    DEDICATED,     AS     A 
6  ACKNOWLEDGMENT   OF  MANY  KINDNESSES 

^  RECEIVED  AT  THEIR  HANDS, 

rt 

• 

BY  THE  AUTHORESS. 


452671 


PEEFAOE. 


MY  aim  and  intention  in  penning  this  work  is  not 
mercenary,  as  some  might  imagine.  I  have  always  an 
aim  to  accomplish.  As  money  has  become  paramount 
in  this  age,  I  feel  there  is  a  duty  incumbent  upon  me, 
as  a  writer,  to  try  and  instill  into  the  minds  of  the  rising 
generation,  true  principle  instead  of  gain.  This  one 
point  should  be  our  aim  when  we  contemplate  married 
life.  Aside  from  matrimony,  we  should  live  as  brothers 
and  sisters,  trying  to  aid  each  other ;  not  grasping  for 
wealth  and  destroying  our  fellow-mortals,  as  is  too 
often  the  case.  We  should  seek  to  do  each  other 
good,  and  try  to  elevate  our  fellow-beings  to  a  high 
spiritual  plane,  as  our  Father  in  heaven  has  placed  us 
here  for  some  good  purpose. 

The  ideas  of  this  story  were  conceived,  as  I  have 
already  stated,  while  spending  a  few  weeks  at  the  hotel 
I  have  previously  described.  While  gazing  out  upon 
the  broad  Hudson,  the  picture  recalled  to  mind  many 
incidents  of  the  beautiful  Eappahannock,  which  I 
Lave  spoken  of  in  my  story. 

I  have  tried  not  to  exaggerate  the  character  of  my 
heroine,  although  she  is  a  Virginian.  We  know  there 


PREFACE. 

are  good  and  bad  people,  the  world  over ;  yet  there 
are  many,  who  have  traveled  through  the  Southern 
States,  who  will  no  do  nbt  acknowledge  all  I  have  stated  in 
regard  to  the  hospitality  of  the  people.  Her  father 
was  faithful  unto  death,  and  when  he  heard  that  his 
daughter  was  dead,  he  could  have  exclaimed  like  one 
of  old:  0,  my  child,  my  child,  "would  to  God  I  had 
died  for  thee!'  The  character  of  the  mother  of  our 
heroine  is  an  isolated  case  in  the  old  Dominion.  It  is 
rarely  ever  a  Virginia  mother  would  instill  into  the 
minds  of  her  children  mercenary  motives;  but  rather 
virtue,  veracity,  and  economy.  To  marry  where  there 
is  wealth  and  love  is  all  right ;  but  if  money  is  to  be 
the  stepping-stone  to  happiness,  then  I  tremble  for 
such  as  embark  in  the  floating  ship,  that  will  only  sail 
over  a  stormy  sea,  which  will  eventually  cause  her  tim- 
bers to  be  shattered  upon  the  rocks  of  disappointment, 
woe,  and  misery.  In  this  work  I  have  touched  on 
many  subjects  which  existed  in  the  days  of  slavery — 
not  that  I  take  any  pleasure  in  rehearsing  the  old 
story;  but,  as  my  heroine  is  a  Southern  woman,  I  have 
introduced  her  maid,  Lucinda,  and  Joe,  her  coach- 
man, who  have  proved  such  warm  friends  to  their  old 
master  and  mistress  during  their  troubles,  and  never 
forgot  to  weep  and  pray  for  their  unfortunate  daugh- 
ter, during  the  years  of  her  absence  from  Edge  Hill. 

Persons  who  have  read  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin"  will 
find  a  great  contrast  between  the  Palmore  family  and 
the  master  of  Uncle  Tom,  or  Legree.  We  hope  that 
Mrs.  Stowe  will  not  omit  writing  one  more  book,  in 


PREFACE.    '  7 

which  she  can  paint,  in  as  vivid  colors  as  "Uncle 
Tom's  Cabin,"  the  late  trial  which  has  agitated  the 
minds  of  the  people  for  so  many  months.  I  feel  quite 
sure  the  book  will  be  read  by  the  general  public  with 
great  interest. 

In  writing,  I  always  try  to  punish  vice  and  reward 
virtue,  as  I  believe  God  will  do  when  we  tread  the 
shores  of  immortality.  If  we  live  a  pure  life  in  this 
world,  and  carry  out  the  words  of  St.  James,  "  Do  unto 
others  as  you  would  they  should  do  unto  you,"  then 
our  lives  will  glide  smoothly  on,  like  the  rippling 
stream  of  a  summer's  day;  and  when  we  reach  the 
beautiful  shore  that  John  saw  from  the  isle  of 
Patmos,  and  join  the  great  throng  that  no  man  could 
number,  we  shall  have  crowns  upon  our  heads,  harps 
in  our  hands,  and  our  tongues  will  sing  God's  praises 
in  the  eternal  world  forever  and  forever. 


CONTENTS. 


FAQB 

PROLOGUE 11 


CHAPTER  I. 
THE  WRECKED  SCHOONER 17 

CHAPTER  II. 
THE  COURTSHIP 33 

CHAPTER  III. 
THE  PROPOSAL  AND  ACCEPTANCE 46 

CHAPTER  IV. 
THE  WEDDING...  68 


CHAPTER  V. 
THE  BRIDAL  TOUR.  . .  .75 


X  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  VI. 
THE  HOME  ON  THE  HUDSON.  . . 


CHAPTER  VII. 
THE  Two  PORTRAITS 103 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
THE  VISION  FULFILLED 120 

CHAPTER  IX. 
THE  BIRTH  OP  IDA 148 

CHAPTER  X. 
MEDORA'S  ESCAPE  FROM  THE  CONVENT 164 

CHAPTER  XI. 
MARRIED  TO  HER  FIRST  LOVER 175 

CHAPTER  XII. 
THE  BRIDE'S  ILLNESS 193 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
MEDORA  AND  HER  FATHER  REUNITED 208 


PROLOGUE. 


IHE  writer,  while  spending  a  short  time  at  the 
Grant  House,  Catskill,  became  familiar  with 
the  facts  embodied  in  this  romance.  Its  re- 
cital, which  interested  her  so  much,  she  hopes 
will  also  interest  others.  The  village  of  Catskill  is  situ- 
ated on  Catskill  Creek,  at  the  foot  of  the  mountains. 
History  informs  us  that  it  derived  its  name  from  the 
fact  that  these  mountains  were  infested  with  cata- 
mounts in  the  olden  times ;  therefore  the  Indian  name 
is  very  appropriate.  This  beautiful  town  contains 
seven  or  eight  thousand  inhabitants,  who  are  intellec- 
tual, Christian  people.  The  buildings  are  mostly  of 
modern  style,  with  but  few  of  the  Gothic  order.  The 
churches,  with  their  loud-tolling  bells  and  tall  steeples, 
would  remind  one  of  city  life.  There  is  a  great  deal 
of  business  done  in  this  town,  considering  the  popu- 
lation. Stepping  on  terra  firma  from  the  beautiful 
steamers,  the  New  Champion  or  Walter  Brent,  Capts. 
Black  and  Donohue's  line,  our  eyes  are  enraptured 
with  the  lovely  scenery  which  presents  itself  to  our 


12  PROLOGUE. 

vision.  In  front  of  us  are  the  cerulean  Catskills,  rising 
in  majestic  grandeur.  In  ascending  the  hill  on  the 
right  we  see  the  spacious  Prospect  House,  with  its  fine 
cupola  and  porticoes,  surrounded  by  shady  trees  of  va- 
rious kinds,  situated  on  the  hill  overlooking  the  grand 
Hudson.  The  scenery  around  this  building  is  very  fine. 
There  are  but  few  summer  resorts  which  surpass  the 
Prospect  House.  Farther  on  is  Gunn's  hotel,  a  large, 
commodious  house,  which  is  always  well  patronized. 

As  we  pass  along  the  streets,  which  are  shaded  by 
trees  whose  pendent  branches  overshadow  the  traveler 
as  he  walks  along  on  his  journey,  then  comes  the 
Irving  House,  a  large  and  elegant  building,  kept  in  first- 
class  style,  and  may  be  termed  a  luxurious  hotel,  with 
every  accommodation  that  heart  can  wish.  "We  also 
pass  the  old  Doolittle  building,  the  house  where  it  is 
said  Eip  Van  Winkle  found  the  people  voting,  when  he 
came  from  the  mountains,  and  where  everything  looked 
so  strangely  to  him.  It  would  require  more  than  the 
pen  of  an  Irving  or  Dickens  to  accurately  portray  the 
picturesque  scenery  surrounding  this  village. 

A  little  way  beyond,  towards  the  end  of  the  street,  is 
Smith's  Hotel,  a  commodious  and  well-kept  house  with 
pleasant  rooms.  After  leaving  the  main  street,  turning 
to  the  left  and  riding  about  a  mile,  we  gradually  as- 
cend the  hill,  when  we  behold  the  famous  "Grant 
House,"  a  building  to  all  appearances  of  pure  white 
marble,  which  is  like  a  "beacon-blaze  upon  a  mighty 
rock."  It  is  situated  on  the  brow  of  a  tremendous  hill, 
and  to  it  has  just  been  added  a  new  building, 


PROLOGUE.  13 

making  several  hundred  rooms.  It  would  remind  one 
of  Solomon's  Temple  on  Mount  Moriah,  which  the 
Bible  says  was  constructed"  without  hammer  or  nails." 
We  feel  quite  sure  that  the  great  architect,  Mr.  Amos 
Story,  must  have  given  his  inventive  powers  full  scope 
when  lie  planned  such  an  elegant  edifice  with  all  its 
modern  improvements.  There  is  no  summer  resort  on 
the  Hudson  that  can  surpass  this  splendid  building. 
It  is  magnificently  furnished,  and  every  comfort  of  a 
home  may  be  here  realized.  It  can  only  be  appreci- 
ated by  those  who  are  fortunate  enough  to  secure 
rooms  for  the  summer  months.  How  pleasant  to  as- 
cend the  cupola  of  such  a  house,  and  gaze  with  rapture 
upon  the  beautiful  Hudson  and  the  environs  of  the  vil- 
lage,  and  how  delightful  are  the  promenades  that  the 
guests  enjoy  through  those  spacious  porticoes ;  then  the 
grounds  are  so  beautifully  laid  out,  in  the  most  scien- 
tific order,  being  interspersed  with  trees  and  flowers  of 
all  kinds.  The  little  summer-houses  on  the  brow  of 
the  hill  are  so  romantic,  nicely  shaded,  and  there  we 
can  sit  and  meditate  on  the  grandeur  of  the  scenery. 
Looking  off  to  the  right,  we  view  the  grand  old  Cats- 
kills  above  us,  towering  towards  the  skies.  Then,  glanc- 
ing at  the  left,  we  gaze  down  on  the  depths  beneath, 
in  the  valley,  where  gently  glides  the  gurgling  brook 
over  mossy  stones  and  smooth  pebbles,  and  the  shady 
trees  wave  their  tender  branches  over  the  green  grass, 
where  blooms  the  mistletoe,  and  violet,  and  honey- 
suckle, and  the  singing  birds  are  heard  caroling  their 
morning  praises  to  the  Great  Father,  who  has  created 


14  PEOLOGUE. 

the  mountains  and  the  valleys,  and  every  living  thing. 
"  A  thing  of  beauty  is  a  joy  forever." 

Here,  amidst  this  enchanting  scenery  which  sur- 
rounds Catskill,  we  pen  these  verses  while  gazing  wist- 
fully at  the  cerulean  mountains  from  the  Grant  House. 

THE  WILD  FLOWEKS  OF  THE  MOUNTAIN. 

The  wild  flowers  bloom  as  pretty  as  ever, 

On  the  dark,  dreary  mountain  at  home. 
Their  petals  are  starry,  their  colors  are  bright ; 

None  can  outvie  them,  where'er  we  roam. 
"  I  bloom  on  the  mountain,"  says  the  little  violet, 

"  But  the  sunlight  bursts  on  me  there  ; 
My  petals  are  blue,  and  my  fragrance  is  sweet, 

As  if  I  grew  in  a  garden  so  fair." 

"  I  bloom  on  the  mountain,"  says  the  fair-tinted  rose, 

"  Why  should  I  not  be  admired? 
My  beauty's  the  same,  my  fragrance  as  great, 

If  I  am  on  the  mountain  retired." 
"  I  bloom  on  the  mountain,"  says  the  white  lily ; 

"  Why  should  I  not  be  in  a  nook, 
When  Solomon  of  old  was  not  equal  to  my  glory, 
If  I  am  the  plain  lily  of  the  brook  ?  " 

"  I  bloom  on  the  mountain,"  says  the  little  cowslip, 

"  Are  uot  my  sweet  blossoms  pretty  too  ? 
I  grow  in  the  sunlight,  all  the  day  long, 

And  am  wet  with  the  nightly  dew." 
"I  bloom  on  the  mountain,"  says  the  wild  honeysuckle, 

As  it  entwines  the  myrtle  the  most ; 
"  We  love  each  other  in  the  lowly  forest, 

And  that  is  why  the  flowers  should  boast." 


PROLOGUE.  15 

Pretty  flowers  of  the  mountain,  your  germs  combine. 

To  illumine  the  nooks  that  are  near ; 
Your  starry  petals  the  garden  cannot  outshine, 

For  God  has  planted  you  here. 
Then  flowers  of  the  mountain,  bloom  sweetly  there 

Amid  the  dark  forest  and  gloom, 
For  One  has  tranplanted  you  everywhere, 

To  fill  the  world  with  your  rich  perfume. 

Bloom  on,  bloom  on,  ye  beautiful  treasures, 

And  may  your  bright  germs  each  other  entwine, 

Even  the  flowers  are  truer  to  their  mission 
Than  men,  whom  we  think  divine. 


While  looking  at  the  little  humming-birds,  among 
the  flowers,  these  verses  were  penned  : 

THE  LITTLE  HUMMING-BIKD. 

OH,  beautiful  bird,  thou  hast  come 

Thus  early  in  the  morn 
To  sip  the  nectar  of  the  flowers, 

Before  the  early  dawn. 

Thou  pretty  bird,  with  fluttering  wings, 

We  welcome  thy  tiny  form  ; 
It  is  from  some  bower  far  away. 

The  humming-bird  hath  come. 

Thou  bird  of  thy  tribe,  thou  art  here, 

In  a  land  of  pretty  flowers, 
And  we  hope  the  innocent 

May  not  be  touch'd  among  the  bowera. 


16  PROLOGUE. 

Thou  bird,  whose  beauty  we  admire, 
Children  may  meet  thee  at  the  rose ; 

But  thy  keen  sight  may  aid  thy  flight, 
And  thou  must  leave  thy  little  foes. 

Thou  bird,  far  away  thou  must  fly, 
And  leave  the  rose  so  sweet ; 

Then,  while  flitting  toward  the  sky, 
Thy  little  mate  mayst  thou  meet. 

Thou,  quiet  bird,  must  come  again, 
And  in  the  garden  soon, 

To  sip  the  honey  from  the  flower, 
And  leave  ere  the  dawn  of  noon. 

Thou  bird  of  the  grove,  thou  art  free 
Amid  the  woodland  bower, 

To  chitter-chatter  all  the  day, 
And  sip  the  wildwood  flower. 


THE  CRIMSON  STAR; 

OK, 
THE  MIDNIGHT  VISION. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE   WRECKED   SCHOONER. 

But  while,  like  Passion,  storms  and  moans  the  gulf, 
And  pearls  the  beach  with  flakes  of  silver  foam, 
Upon  the  other  side,  like  Patience,  swell 
The  surfless  billows  of  the  bay. — Miss  MOOBK.    * 

was  a  stormy  evening  in  November,  some 
years  ago.  Dark  and  angry  clouds  flitted  across 
the  horizon  ;  and  the  wind  came  in  such  tem- 
pestuous gusts  as  threatened  to  hurl  the  Manor 
House  at  Edge  Hill  from  its  foundation. 
"  Oh,  papa,  what  a  storm  ! "  exclaimed  the  silvery  voice 
of  Medora  Palmore,  as  she  stood  beside  a  window 
watching  the  portentous  clouds. 

"Yes,  my  daughter,"  replied  the  old  gentleman,  as 
he  was  in  the  act  of  sinking  into  an  easy-chair  before 
a  cheerful  Avood  fire  burning  brightly  on  the  old- 
fashioned  brass  and  irons  which  shone  like  gold.  "I 
fear,"  continued  Mr.  Palmore,  "  I  greatly  fear,  from 


18  THE   CRIMSON   STAR;    OR, 

the  appearance  of  the  horizon,  that  the  poor  sailors 
will  have  a  stormy  night."  Medora  stood  gazing  upon 
the  Chesapeake  Bay,  whose  mountainous  billows 
appeared  almost  to  touch  the  clouds.  The  elements 
seemed  engaged  in  awful  strife.  The  young  girl  gazed 
out  with  eyes  full  of  interest  and  enthusiasm.  Again 
she  spoke,  in  a  voice  whose  thrilling  intonation  at  once 
charmed  the  ear. 

"A  storm  indeed,  papa!"  she  observed.  "I  per- 
ceive a  large  schooner  endeavoring  to  make  harbor, 
but  the  wind  keeps  her  off.  Oh !  she  is  coming 
into  Fleet's  Bay.  What  a  beautiful  vessel!  her 
white  sails  are  fluttering  in  the  wind.  It  appears 
that  she  will  have  some  difficulty  in  getting  safely 
in." 

"  Oh,  no,  I  reckon  not,"  said  her  father,  rising  from 
his  seat,  laying  aside  his  pipe,  and  approaching  the 
window.  "  Let  me  see,  daughter,  how  the  schooner 
makes  her  tacks;  then  I  will  tell  you  whether  or  not 
she  can  anchor  in  this  harbor." 

When  the  old  gentleman  had  reached  the  window 
and  taken  a  view,  he  smiled,  saying : 

"  That  craft  is  a  New  Yorker — a  real  Yankee — and 
she  will  anchor  in  the  harbor." 

The  old  man  and  his  fair  daughter  continued  to 
watch  the  vessel  as  she  trimmed  her  sails  to  the 
breeze.  The  wind  blew  a  hurricane  from  out  a  dark 
and  lowering  sky.  The  white-crested  billows  of  the 
Chesapeake  rose  up  into  mimic  mountains,  and  dashed 
their  furious  waters  far  up  on  the  rocky  shores  of 


THE    MIDNIGHT   VISION.  19 

Northumberland.  But,  after  a  brief  struggle  with 
wind  and  tide,  the  schooner  succeeded  in  casting 
anchor  in  Fleet's  Bay. 

"  Bring  me  my  spy-glass,  daughter,  and  let  me  see 
her  name,"  said  Mr.  Palmore.  "  I  think  that  same 
vessel  entered  our  harbor  some  weeks  ago.  Oh,  yes,  I 
see !  it  is  the  Old  Dominion.  Her  crew  are  a  set  of 
brave  men,  not  easily  scared  by  winds  and  waves. 
They  do  not  seem  to  fear  'Davy's  Locker,'  although  so 
many  of  the  poor  souls  find  it  in  storms  like  this. 
That  vessel  has  been  in  this  harbor  several  times," 
continued  the  planter,  adjusting  the  glass  again. 
"She  is  a  fine  wood  vessel,  and  many  a  cord  of  excel- 
lent wood  have  I  sold  her.  Her  captain  is  a  worthy 
man,  and  I  am  glad  to  see  them  safely  in  ;  they  are  all 
right  now — all  taut,  as  sailors  say — to  weather  out  the 
storm.  Some  of  our  neighbors  do  not  like  to  see 
those  Yankee  schooners,  now  that  we  expect  war ;  but 
I  don't  care,  any  way ;  they  have  their  ideas,  and  we 
have  ours,  on  the  slavery  question.  They  are  safe  for 
the  night  at  least." 

The  old  man  laid  aside  the  glass,  returned  to  his 
fireside  seat,  refilled  his  pipe,  and  smoked  away,  the 
very  embodiment  of  good-nature  and  content.  Me- 
dora  also  left  the  window.  She  seated  herself  at  a 
table,  and  took  up  her  pretty  needle-work. 

"The  storm  still  rages,"  said  she.  "I  hope  it  will 
never  be  my  fate  to  experience  a  gale  at  sea." 

"  There  are  storms  by  land  as  well  as  by  sea,  my 
daughter,  and  it  sometimes  happens  that  the  former 


20  THE    CRIMSON   STAB  ;    OR, 

are  as  disastrous  to  human  beings  as  the  latter. 
There  is  quite  as  much  reason  to  fear  the  one  as  the 
other." 

"Papa,"  resumed  Medora  after  a  pause,  "I  have  a 
presentiment  that  something  connected  with  water 
and  a  vessel  is  to  cause  me  great  pain  and  trouble. 
Do  not  laugh ;  but,  since  I  beheld  the  sails  of  that 
schooner  to-night,  a  sadness,  such  as  I  never  before 
felt,  has  come  over  me,  and  I  cannot  shake  it 
off." 

"  Pho,  nonsense ! "  returned  the  old  man.  You  are 
just  like  your  mother — and  all  other  women  for  that 
matter — ever  talking  about  sadness,  and  dark  fore- 
bodings, and  impressions,  and  all  other  foolish 
notions.  'Tis  enough  to  disgust  a  man  with  women. 
As  to  storms  and  shipwrecks,  we  must  try  to  avoid 
them  if  possible ;  but  what  cannot  be  cured  (as  the 
old  adage  goes)  must  be  endured." 

"  Well,  pa,"  said  Medora,  endeavoring  to  smile  as 
usual,  as  she  was  about  to  lay  aside  her  work,  "'tis  a 
fact  that,  at  the  moment  I  beheld  that  vessel,  a 
queer  sensation  almost  overpowered  me,  and  still  con- 
tinues to  agitate  my  mind."  She  added,  in  a  lower 
voice,  "  Perhaps  you  are  to  do  some  great  things  and 
become  notorious  in  war:  some  folks  say  we  are  to 
fight  the  North." 

"  Go  to  bed,  go  to  bed,  and  to  sleep,  my  child ;  and 
when  the  bright  morning  streams,  you  will  have  for- 
gotten all  about  your  strange  feelings,  rifles  and 
bullets." 


THE   MIDNIGHT    VISION.  21 

"  I  heartily  hope  so,"  replied  Medora,  smiling,  with 
another  effort  to  overcome  her  foolish  presentiment, 
as  she  mentally  styled  her  depression  of  spirits.  She 
was  in  the  act  of  leaving  the  room  and  retiring  for  the 
night,  when  they  were  startled  by  a  rap  at  the  front 
door.  They  looked  at  each  other  with  surprise.  The 
storm  and  the  lateness  of  the  hour  made  a  visit  unac- 
countable in  that  part  of  the  country.  The  old  man 
advanced  to  the  door,  partially  opened  it,  and  authori- 
tatively inquired : 

"  Who  comes  at  this  hour  ?  " 

"  A  stranger,"  replied  a  low  voice. 

"  A  stranger  ?  He  has  chosen  a  late  hour  in  which 
to  make  a  visit." 

"  True,  sir ;  but  necessity  compels  me  to  intrude 
thus  and  now  upon  your  kindness." 

"  Come  in,  friend,"  said  Mr.  Palmore;  "the  wind 
blows  too  keen  and  cold  to  stand  on  the  steps  for  a 
parley.  We  hope  you  are  a  friend ;  since  this  political 
trouble  we  do  not  know  our  friends  always." 

"  Certainly  a  friend,"  he  said. 

The  stranger  entered,  bowing  politely.  The  old 
gentleman  requested  him  to  be  seated,  at  the  same 
time  intimating  that  he  was  now  at  liberty  to  ex- 
plain the  cause  of  his  appearance.  As  the  late 
intruder  seated  himself,  he  cast  a  glance  at  the 
daughter,  who,  with  a  lighted  lamp  in  her  hand, 
stood  near  her  father.  Medora  trembled  beneath 
his  scrutinizing  gaze — a  chill  contracted  her  very 


22  THE    CRIMSON    STAR;    OR, 

"  How  strangely  I  feel,"  she  murmured  to  herself. 
"Surely,  this  man  cannot  wish  to  injure  us."  She 
was  riveted  to  the  spot.  Some  power  seeemed  to 
enchain  her  limbs.  She  experienced  an  irresistible 
desire  to  hear  what  the  stranger  had  to  say.  Mr.  Pal- 
more  also  sat  in  a  state  of  curious  inquiry. 

"  A  very  stormy  evening,  sir,"  said  the  stranger,  as 
he  removed  his  cloak,  and  looked  his  host  in  the  face. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  planter,  "we  have  had  quite  a 
storm ;  but  the  wind  seems  to  abate.  It  blew  very 
heavily  about  sunset." 

"  So  heavily,"  said  the  guest,  "  that  at  one  time  I 
feared  we  would  all  make  acquaintance  with  the 
bottom  of  the  Chesapeake.  "Pis  in  consequence  of 
this  storm  that  I  have  ventured  to  call  on  you  at  this 
untimely  hour  of  the  night." 

"  What  is  it  that  you  desire  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Palmore. 
"  If  I  can  do  you  any  service  I  am  at  your  command." 

"  Thank  you,  thank  you,  sir,"  exclaimed  the  gentle- 
man, half  rising  from  his  seat,  and  then  sinking  back 
again.  "  We  have  been  unfortunate  during  the  blow, 
have  lost  our  top-sail,  and  part  of  the  bowsprit  has 
been  blown  away,  and  we  are  out  of  water  on  board 
the  schooner." 

"  Ah !  I  see/'  said  the  planter.  "  You  are  the  cap- 
tain of  the  vessel  that  came  in  harbor  about  sun- 
set." 

"  No,"  was  the  reply ;  "  I  am  not  the  captain  but  the 
owner  of  the  vessel  you  have  observed  ;  and  have  come 
to  ask  the  privilege  of  getting  a  little  water  on  board." 


THE   MIDNIGHT   VISION.  23 

"  Certainly — of  course ;  you  are  perfectly  welcome  to 
all  the  water  you  desire.  Anything  else  we  can  do  for 
you  will  cheerfully  be  done." 

"I  am  exceedingly  obliged  to  you,"  replied  the 
stranger,  rising  as  if  about  to  take  leave. 

"Will  you  not  remain  during  the  night?"  said  the 
planter,  with  genuine  hospitality.  "The  wind  con- 
tinues to  blow  so  as  to  make  it  hazardous  to  attempt 
to  go  on  board,  I  should  think.  We  are  happy  to 
offer  you  all  the  comfort  and  convenience  which  our 
humble  roof  affords,  if  you  can  remain." 

"  There  is  nothing  to  prevent  me  treating  myself  to 
that  pleasure,  save  the  fear  of  incommoding  yourself 
and  family,"  he  replied,  slightly  hesitating,  and  mak- 
ing a  half  bow  to  Medora.  "It  was  with  great  diffi- 
culty that  I  reached  the  shore  to-night;  and,  now  I 
think  of  it  again,  the  crew  are  very  hungry,  and  can- 
not get  breakfast  without  water." 

"  I  will  send  some  of  my  colored  men  aboard  with 
a  keg,  and  then  you  will  be  at  liberty  to  remain  all 
night,  if  it  so  pleases  you,"  suggested  the  old  gentle- 
man. 

"  I  thank  you  exceedingly,"  reiterated  the  stranger, 
who,  from  some  unexplained  cause,  seemed  to  vacillate 
between  a  desire  to  remain,  and  a  duty  to  leave.  "  I 
think  it  were  better  for  me  to  return  on  board."  At 
last,  he  said :  "  Two  of  the  hands  and  the  captain  await 
me  at  the  landing." 

"  By  what  name  do  you  call  your  vessel  ?  "  said  Mr. 
Palmore. 


24  THE    CRIMSON   STAR;    OB, 

"The  'Old  Dominion,'"  replied  the  gentleman. 

"  Ah,  I  have  sold  her  many  hundred  dollars'  worth 
of  wood.  She  has  traded  hereabouts  for  years,  and  a 
fine  man  is  her  captain." 

"  Yes,"  acquiesced  the  owner ;  "  but  he  came  near 
losing  the  boat  this  evening,  I  assure  you.  Many 
times  have  I  been  abroad,  but  never  before  saw  de- 
struction quite  so  near.  On  my  life,  as  we  came  in,  in 
trying  to  turn  the  schooner,  the  wind  struck  her,  and 
laid  her  on  her  side.  After  the  sails  were  blown  away 
we  lost  an  anchor;  then  we  thought  sure  we  could  not 
reach  the  harbor. ,  It  was  with  difficulty  that  we  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  in." 

"  Yes,  we  watched  you  in  the  attempt,  and  perceived 
that  you  were  in  trouble." 

The  gentleman  rose  to  depart.  As  Medora  turned  to 
leave  the  room,,  he  fixed  his  dark,  deep-set  eyes  upon 
the  beautiful  girl,  while  his  aquiline  nose  appeared 
almost  to  touch  the  thin  lips  that  parted  in  an  at- 
tempt to  smile ;  his  gray  hair,  still  wet  with  the  salt 
spray,  hung  heavily  about  his  long  neck.  Medora's 
heart  beat  nervously ;  and,  hastily  bidding  good-night, 
she  ran  up-stairs.  Mr.  Palmore  preceded  the  stranger 
to  the  door,  where  they  parted,  amid  offers  of  assist- 
ance and  accommodation  from  the  planter,  and  profuse 
thanks  on  the  part  of  the  other,  who,  taking  a  last 
courteous  leave  of  his  host,  soon  found  himself  again 
aboard  the  schooner.  The  planter  retired  ;  but  calm 
rest  was  not  his  that  night.  Strange  thoughts  obtrud- 
ed themselves  upon  his  mind,  but  he  gave  them  little 


THE   MIDNIGHT   VISION.  25 

weight  In  the  morning,  before  he  saw  his  daughter, 
he  spoke  to  his  wife  of  having  passed  a  restless  night, 
and,  without  intending  the  connection,  said  that  he 
presumed  the  stranger  and  owner  of  the  "  Old  Do- 
minion "  would  again  visit  them  before  he  left  the 
harbor. 

"  Well,"  replied  the  old  lady,  "  it  would  be  a  pleas- 
urable duty  to  us  to  assist  the  poor  mariners  by  every 
means  in  our  power." 

"  Yes,  wife,"  replied  the  husband,  "  that  is  true, 
and  characteristic  of  a  Virginian;  we  take  a  pride  in 
our  hospitality.  The  owner  of  the  schooner  is  a  New 
Yorker,  I  think.  Perhaps  he  will  find  us  a  civilized 
people.  If  we  are  Southerners,  we  know  how  to  treat 
strangers,  particularly  those  in  distress." 

"Now,  old  man,"  said  his  wife,  "you  are  thinking 
about  the  war." 

The  discussion  ended.  Mrs.  Palmore  proceeded  to 
hasten  the  morning  repast,  and  soon  the  air  reverber- 
ated to  the  cheering  sound  of  the  breakfast  bell.  As 
they  were  about  to  seat  themselves,  Medora  made  her 
appearance. 

"Oh,  mamma!"  she  exclaimed,  in  the  pretty,  play- 
fully-pettish manner  that  so  well  became  her,  "  I  do 
wish  you  had  not  been  in  such  haste  this  morning  for 
breakfast;  for  I  never  felt  so  sleepy  as  I  did  when  the 
bell  awoke  me." 

"You  had  a  long  night  in  which  to  sleep,  Medora; 
and  your  duties  are  not  so  arduous,  my  dear,  but  that 


26  THE    CRIMSON   STAK  ;    OR, 

you  might  be  in  readiness  for  breakfast,"  replied  her 
mother  with  a  fond  smile. 

"  Oh,  the  night  was  sufficiently  long;  it  is  not  with 
that  I  find  fault,"  rejoined  the  young  beauty.  "I  did 
not  close  my  eyes  for  sleep  until  the  cock  crew  for 
day." 

"  Why,  my  daughter,  what  caused  such  unwonted 
wakef ulness  ?  "  inquired  her  father. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  replied  Miss  Palmore,  as  the  smile 
faded  from  her  lips;  "I — I  believe  I  was  haunted  by 
that  strange  man  who  was  here  last  night.  The  white 
sails  of  that  schooner  flitted  before  my  mind's  eye  until 
day-dawn."  "The  stranger  must  have  touched  your 
fancy,  Medora ! "  cried  her  father,  laugh  ing,  as  though  it 
were  a  pleasant  pastime  to  tease  his  pet.  "  Quite  to  the 
contrary ! "  said  the  pouting  girl.  "  As  I  cast  my  eyes 
upon  that  man,  I  had  the  most  peculiar  sensations  I 
ever  experienced  in  my  life.  I  trembled  like  an  aspen 
leaf  as  I  looked  upon  him  ;  yet  I  do  not  suppose  that 
he  would  have  hurt  a  hair  of  my  head,  for  he  appear- 
ed-quite  enough  like  an  old  gentleman." 

"No,  my  child ;  he  is  the  owner  of  the  vessel  we  so 
sedulously  watched  last  evening.  You  must  have  sur- 
mised that  he  was  aboard,  Medora,  you  displayed  so 
much  anxiety,"  said  the  old  man,  who  loved  his  joke, 
even  though  it  were  a  little  coarse.  "I  remember  now, 
you  then  spoke  of  strange  feelings — queer  premonitory 
symptoms.  Love,  they  say,  is  a  peculiar  sensation. 
He  looked  at  you  as  if  he  thought  you  rather  suited 
him.  I  say,  Medora,  perhaps  he  will  turn  out  to  be  a 


THE    MIDNIGHT    VISION.  27 

widower  or  a  bachelor  in  search  of  a  Virginia  wife. 
We  shall  certainly  see  him  ashore  again.  I  noticed  a 
matrimonial  glimmer  in  his  queer  eyes,  when  he 
squinted  in  your  direction,  but  perhaps  he  would  not 
marry  a  slaveholder's  daughter;  so  we  are  safe 
enough.' 

"Papa,  you  are  incorrigible!"  uttered  the  pret- 
ty lips  which  looked  so  tempting.  "I  am  sure  your 
ancient  friend  with  the  queer  eyes  would  never  be  so 
unwise  as  to  think  of  me  as  a  wife ;  and,  even  if  he  did, 
I  should  never  become  such  with  my  own  consent." 

"  Wait  until  you  are  asked,"  suggested  her  mother. 
"I  presume  that  the  gentleman  is  already  provided  with 
a  better  half;  so  you  need  not  be  so  premature  in  your 
refusal." 

Soon  the  subject  of  conversation  changed,  no  one  ex- 
pecting ever  to  see  the  man  again.  After  breakfast 
was  concluded,  Medora  went  into  the  garden ;  thence 
she  sauntered  into  the  grape-arbor.  The  trellis  seemed 
almost  overburdened  with  the  luxuriant  vine  and  de- 
licious fruit.  The  ground  whereon  it  was  situated  vv%s 
slightly  elevated,  and,  from  her  position  she  command- 
ed a  fine  view  of  the  symmetrical  schooner  as  she  lay  at 
anchor.  Two  or  three  sailors  appeared  among  the  rig- 
ging ;  and,  as  the  fair  girl  stood  poising  a  magnificent 
cluster  of  the  purple  berries  in  her  hand,  it  suddenly 
occured  to  her,  how  grateful  to  the  palate  of  those 
hard-working  men  would  be  a  supply  of  the  abundant 
fruit;  and,  while  gathering  the  delicious  grapes,  in 
imagination  she  wandered  away  to  sunny  France,  and 


THE    CRIMSON    STAR  ;    OR, 

Eugene  Appomore  filled  her  mind,  which  was  suffi- 
cient for  ns  to  pen  these  lines : 

LASTING  PLEASURES. 

Oh!  tell  me  not  of  lasting  pleasures 

In  this  cold  world  below  ; 
'Tis  only  Heaven  can  grant  those  treasures, 

In  a  world  where  mortals  go. 

There  is  a  land  where  spirits  blend 

In  von  bright  realm  above— 
Where  flowers  bloom  forever  fresh, 

And  souls  unite  in  love. 

There,  love  is  not  a  fickle  fancy, 

Vision-like  to  pass  away  ; 
But  there  it  lingers  on  forever, 

Through  eternal,  blissful  day. 

"  I  will  go  and  suggest  it  to  my  father,"  she  said,  half 
aloud,  and  was  about  leaving  the  arbor  when  the  sound 
of  oars  struck  her  ear.  Turning  her  gaze  again  toward 
th*e  water,  she  beheld  a  boat  which  had  almost  reached 
the  shore.  In  a  moment  it  ran  upon  the  sands,  and 
the  visitor  of  the  previous  evening  leaped  out,  and 
with  hurried  step  took  his  way  toward  the  house.  See- 
ing the  garden  gate,  he  entered  by  that  way,  not  perceiv- 
ing Medora  until  he  was  close  upon  the  arbor.  Soon  as 
his  eye  caught  her  fascinated  gaze,  he  hastened  toward 
her,  and,  with  peculiar  courtesy,  and  the  smile  that  had 
made  her  shrink  from  his  scrutinizing  gaze,  made 
tender  inquiries  after  her  health.  Recovering  her- 


THE    MIDNIGHT   VISION.  29 

self,  Medora  replied  with  native  grace,  returning  the 
compliment. 

"  We  are  about  leaving  the  harbor  this  morning, 
Miss  Palmore,  taking  advantage  of  the  storm's  abate- 
ment," said  the  strange  man ;  "  but  my  captain  has  just 
informed  me  that  we  are  out  of  flour,  etc.,  etc. ;  so 
I  have  come  to  beg  a  second  favor  at  the  hands  of  your 
excellent  father.  Do  you  think  that  he  will  furnish 
me  with  the  needed  provisions?"  Miss  Palmore  was 
inwardly  amused  at  this  unsentimental  conversation; 
but  she  replied,  with  a  grace  quite  unconscious  of  its 
attraction — 

"  If  you  will  accompany  me  to  the  house,  you  can 
speak  with  my  father,  sir ; "  and,  as  they  proceeded  side 
by  side,  they  fell  into  easy  converse  regarding  the 
beauties  of  the  locality  and  scenery. 

"  And  what  do  you  call  this  farm  ?  "  asked  the  gentle- 
man. "  I  believe  it  is  customary  with  the  Southerners 
to  name  their  residences." 

"You  are  right,"  replied  Medora,  "and  the  appel- 
lation of  this  plantation  is  nothing  more  romantic  than 
Edge  Hill." 

"Certainly  appropriate,  if  not  romantic,"  returned 
the  gentleman,  "  and  consistency,  you  know,  is  a  jewel. 
It  is  situated  on  such  a  hill,  so  near  the  river,  it  may 
well  be  culled  by  that  appellation.  Although  we 
entered  the  harbor  during  a  storm,  I  particularly  no- 
ticed this  mansion — the  location  is  charming,  and  the 
architecture  just  according  to  my  somewhat  fastidious 
taste.  And,"  he  added  in  a  lower  tone,  and  with 


30  THE   CRIMSON   STAR;    OR, 

a  furtive  glance  at  his  beautiful  companion,  "I  fear, 
for  me,  the  building  contains  a  greater  attraction  with- 
in." Medora  was  confused  at  his  boldness,  but,  as  she 
had  always  heard  the  Yankees  were  good  at  guessing, 
she  thought  perhaps  he  was  guessing  too  much. 

Fortunately  for  the  lady,  just  at  this  juncture  they 
reached  the  door,  where  they  found  Mr.  Palmore,  who, 
with  hearty  hospitality,  invited  the  stranger  in  and 
thus  relieved  his  daughter  from  the  embarrassment  of 
entertaining  one  in  whose  favor,  she  was  not  in  the 
least  prepossessed.  Medora  passed  on  through  the  par- 
lor into  the  dining-room  and  escaped  the  eyes  of  the 
guest,  who  made  his  business  known  to  the  planter, 
and  was  furnished  with  the  necessary  supplies.  As  the 
strange  gentleman  was  about  to  take  leave  for  the 
second  time,  he  handed  a  little  blank  book  to  Mr.  Pal- 
more,  saying: 

"  Excuse  my  inquisitiveness,  my  dear  sir,  and  the 
liberty  I  am  about  to  take.  Your  kindness  has  ladened 
me  with  obligations.  May  I  beg  you  to  add  to  those 
already  received,  by  transcribing  in  this  book  your  au- 
tograph, with  those  of  your  family,  and  that  of  the 
county  in  which  you  reside  ?  " 

The  wondering  old  gentleman  complied ;  then  the 
stranger,  in  return,  furnished  his  own  address: 

EALPH  BRUSTER, 

Attorney  at  Law, 

NEW  YORK  CITY. 

He  furthermore  added  the  information  that  he  was 


THE   MIDNIGHT   VISION.  31 

on  his  way  to  Fredericksburg,  on  important  business, 
when  his  vessel  had  been  forced  by  the  storm  to  enter 
the  harbor  for  protection ;  and  was  pleased,  moreover, 
to  say  that  he  regretted  not  his  loss  of  time,  nor  one 
unexpected  moment  he  had  passed  in  Virginia;  for  the 
kindness  of  Mr.  Palmore  and  family  had  inspired  him 
with  something  more  than  gratitude  and  respect. 
The  old  gentleman  smiled  as  he  listened,  and  re- 
marked : 

"We  are,  sir,  a  civilized  people,  but  desire  to  be 
treated  with  due  respect  and  consideration.  Should 
you  ever  again  be  caught  in  a  gale,  come  to  my  house, 
and  I  will  take  the  best  possible  care  of  you." 

Again  that  strange  smile  gleamed  upon  the  lawyer's 
lace  as  he  courteously  replied  : 

"I  do  not  think,  sir,  that  I  shall  await  a  storm  for 
my  advent,  but  may  drift  along  shore  some  of  these 
days  in  a  calm.  Good-bye,  for  the  present,  and  make 
my  highest  regards  to  your  charming  family." 

So,  with  friendly  clasping  of  hands,  they  parted. 
Mr.  13rusr,er  hastened  to  regain  the  deck  of  his  ves- 
sel. She  hoisted  her  sails  and  gallantly  made  her  way 
out  of  Fleet's  harbor.  Soon  she  grew  but  a  speck  in 
the  distance,  and  ere  long  vanished  from  the  gaze 
"  like  a  dream." 

And  beautiful  eyes  watched,  Medora's  eyes,  the  fast- 
disappearing  vessel.  The  gaze  of  the  Virginia  belle 
followed  her  as  she  left  the  harbor,  and  she  idly  won- 
dered if  the  "  Old  Dominion "  would  ever  again 
<(  come  sailing  into  "  the  bay.  But  she  felt  no  regrets. 


32  THE   CRIMSON  STAB,    OR, 

Too  pure  and  unsophisticated  for  dislike,  or  to  analyze 
character,  the  stranger  had  inspired  her  with  none  but 
unpleasant  sensations.  As  she  saw  the  lessening  sail 
grow 

"  Small  by  degrees,  and  beautifully  less," 

a  load  seemed  lifted  from  off  her  heart,  and  uncon- 
sciously she  drew  a  sigh  of  relief.  The  strange  guest 
had  naught  about  him  to  attract  the  heart  of  the 
young  beauty,  and  Medora  smiled,  as  she  wittily  said 
to  herself — "  He  is  a  man,  take  him  all  in  all,  I  hope  we 
ne'er  shall  look  upon  his  like  again.  He  is  a  real 
Yankee,  I  know,  even  had  he  not  stated  that  Massa- 
chusetts was  his  birthplace  ;  he  is  in  favor  of  the  war, 
although  he  tried  to  conceal  his  sentiments  while 
conversing  with  pa.  Well,  let  him  be  what  he  may," 
whispered  Medora,  "perhaps  we  shall  never  see  him 
again  ;  so  we  will  think  no  more  of  our  midnight 
guest." 


THE   MIDNIGHT   VISION.  33 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  COUKTSHIP. 

the  time  Miss  Palmore  is  presented  to  the 
reader,  she  had  numbered  about  eighteen 
summers.  Marriage  at  the  South  is  general- 
ly contracted  at  a  very  youthful  age;  but 
Medora  was  still,  in  maiden  meditation,  fancy  free, 
and  considered  that  there  was  abundance  of  time  to 
preserve  herself  from  the  horrors  of  celibacy.  Nu- 
merous were  the  swains  who  bowed  at  her  shrine, 
from  the  adjoining  counties;  and  it  was  said  that,  the 
fame  of  her  charms  having  spread  even  to  Baltimore, 
that  city  had  also  contributed  its  portion  of  admira- 
tion. Nay,  the  last-mentioned  quality  had  been  from 
childhood  Miss  Palmore's  daily  food. 

"  Her  face  it  was  the  fairest 
That  e'er  the  sun  shone  on;  " 

And  the  bewitching  beauty  pursued  the  even  tenor 
of  her  way,  lovely  and  beloved.      Placidly  beat  her 
maiden    heart    beneath    a   'broidered   vest,   and    she 
evinced  no  desire  to  slip  her  fair  neck  into  that  noose 
which,    to   untie,   is   harder  than  the  Gordian  knot. 
Happy  in  her  father's  house,  she  was  grateful  for  her 
lot,  and  experienced  no  ambition  to  exchange 
"  Her  maiden  gladness 
For  a  name,  and  for  a  ring." 


34  THE   CRIMSON   STAR;    OR, 

Medora  had  but  one  brother,  who  was  at  college  at 
St.  Mary's,  Williamsburg,  Virginia.  The  children  of 
Mr.  Palmore  were  idolized  by  their  father.  Strange 
to  confess,  the  maternal  affection  was  not  so  ardent. 
Are  there  not  mothers  and  female  relations,  whose 
ambition  renders  them  destroyers  of  their  own  chil- 
dren and  kindred?  We  sometimes  meet  females  who 
are  more  mercenary  than  men,  and  who  would  sacrifice 
much  more  to  obtain  wealth.  "Women  have  great 
power  over  their  children  and  kindred;  therefore, 
there  is  often  much  misery  inflicted  upon  the  human 
family  by  the  descendants  of  our  mother  Eve.  Ere 
we  close  our  tale  the  reader  will  have  seen  the  evils 
occasioned  by  the  pernicious  influence  of  ambition. 
But,  as  yet,  our  little  family  remains  in  a  state  of 
quiet  happiness. 

By  a  strange  perversity,  which  Medora  did  not 
attempt  to  analyze,  her  thoughts  were  often  occupied 
in  recalling  the  image  of  the  owner  of  the  "  Old 
Dominion."  His  piercing  glance,  which  expressed  yet 
seemed  to  withhold  so  much;  his  inexplicable  smile; 
his  unprepossessing  physical  appearance,  and  yet 
courtier-like  manner,  made  up  a  whole  that  provoked 
her  curiosity,  and,  in  the  absence  of  other  objects  of 
interest,  occupied  far  more  of  her  private  meditations 
than  she  was  at  all  aware  of. 

Strange  are  the  occurrences  which  the  daily  sun 
looks  down  upon;  and  strange,  "passing  strange," 
the  chance  that  sent  the  New  York  lawyer  to  invade 
the  vestal  life  of  Medora  Palmore. 


THE  MIDNIGHT   VISION.  35 

Fate,  fate!  how  cruel  sometimes  is  thy  mission. 
"Why,  in  au  ill-starred  hour,  has  the  hurricane  driven 
that  bark  into  sheltering  Fleet's  Bay?  Ah!  the  raging 
of  winds  and  the  dashing  of  waves  must  abate  in 
time,  although  noble  crafts  may  have  been  sub- 
merged, and  valued  lives  lost.  Yet  a  calni  succeeded 
the  storm. 

Thus  may  be  the  life  of  our  heroine.  Like  many 
of  her  tender  sex,  she  was  born  to  experience  many 
changes  in  life.  It  would  seem  that  she  possessed 
something  of  the  power  of  prescience.  What  else 
could  fill  her  heart  with  unjust  forebodings  as  her 
eyes  beheld  the  flying  schooner  ?  And  wherefore,  even 
when  the  bark  and  its- strange  owner  had  disappeared, 
was  she  still  tormented  by  a  vague  uneasiness  ?  Deter- 
mined to  overcome  what  she  styled  her  foolish 
fancies,  Medora  devoted  herself  more  than  ever  to  her 
family,  and  to  self-improvement.  Fond  of  horticul- 
ture, she  passed  much  time  out  in  the  invigorating 
air,  and  showed,  in  her  increased  bloom,  the  truth  of 
Dr.  Holmes'  beautifully-expressed  thought,  that 
"roses  come  to  the  cheeks  of  those  who  stoop  to 
gather  them." 

Medora  was  essentially  a  domestic  girl, — and,  if  her 
disposition  be  amiable,  a  domestic  woman  is  certainly 
"a  price  above  rubies."  How  happy  is  it  in  her  power 
to  render  her  family.  No  man  desires  a  china  doll  by 
way  of  wife.  The  highest  attainments  of  accomplish- 
ments and  domestic  qualities  are  compatible  with  each 
other.  Such  a  woman  our  readers  will  in  time  admit 


THE   CRIMSON   STAR;    OR, 

our  heroine  to  be.  Music,  painting,  the  languages, 
were  all  at  her  command — such  of  the  modern 
tongues,  at  least,  as  are  deemed  essential  to  the  com- 
pleteness of  a  lady's  education — the  five  principal 
tongues  of  Europe.  And  even  in  the  feminine  arts  of 
embroidery  and  needle-work  were  the  pretty  lingers 
of  Medora  quite  au  fait.  Nature  had  been  lavish  in 
her  gifts,  and  fortune  not  the  less  favored  the  beauti- 
ful girl.  Her  idolizing  father  spared  no  money  in  the 
education  of  his  children ;  and  Medora  received  the 
most  of  hers  at  a  female  institute  of  Baltimore — one 
of  the  finest  seminaries  of  learning  that  the  State  con- 
tains. The  nimble  fingers  of  Medora  could  invoke 
sweet  strains  of  music  from  the  strings  of  her  Spanish 
guitar;  also,  the  Steinway  piano  sent  forth  its  dulcet 
music  through  the  mansion  at  Edge  Hill.  And  they 
were  also  equally  able  at  the  concoction  of  biscuit, 
pastry,  cakes,  etc.,  etc.  Puddings  as  well  as  land- 
scapes, shirts  as  well  as  bonnets  "grew  and  multiplied" 
beneath  her  touch;  and,  to  her  mind,  poetry  and 
house-keeping  were  not  situated  in  the  antipodes. 
Yet  excellent  Mrs.  Ellis  (if  she  "still  lives")  con- 
tinues to  eulogize  English  wives  and  mothers!  We 
contend  that  their  equals  d\vell  numerously  on  the 
Western  hemisphere.  Bad,  indeed,  must  the  heart  of 
that  woman  be  who  increases  not  in  goodness  when 
she  becomes  a  wife — that  is,  provided  she  marries  a 
man  instead  of  a  brute.  You  start,  elegant  and  kind- 
hearted  young  gentlemen !  You  opine,  perhaps,  that 
none  of  creation's  lords  ought  to  be  classed  with  the 


THE   MIDXIGHT   VISION.  37 

brutes.  But  if,  with  the  assistance  of  patience,  you 
peruse  this  veracious  history  to  its  finale,  you  will  then 
be  able  to  decide  whether  the  writer  is  too  harsh  upon 
the  opposite  sex.  If  then  you  conclude  that  there  is 
not  sufficient  reason  to  denominate  some  men  brutes, 
why  then  the  writer  will  admit  herself  to  be  in  error. 

"  A  creature  nobly  plann'd 

To  warn, 'to  comfort,  to  command  ; 
A  being  not  too  bright  and  good 
For  human  nature's  daily  food." 

In  short,  she  is  no  "angel  in  petticoats;"  nor  an 
ephemeral  fairy,  but,  de  facto,  a  woman,  with  passions 
of  a  human  being,  and  the  emotions  of  Eve's  delicate 
daughter.  She  possessed  reason,  judgment,  cultivated 
intellect,  and  a  heart. 

God  does  not  permit  absolute  perfection  to  inhabit 
this  nether  sphere.  Therefore,  our  heroine  is  only 
human  nature,  and  will  continue  to  be  nothing  more 
nor  less  all  through  our  story.  We  do  not  mean  to 
paint  an  ethereal  woman  this  side  of  the  grave;  we 
wish  only  to  portray  the  true  character  of  a  Virginia 
belle  in  our  happy  days. 

Surely,  a  pretty  girl  with  a  warm,  loving  heart,  who 
dearly  prizes  her  parents  and  kindred,  is  by  no  means 
so  rare  an  object. 

Some  months  had  elapsed  since  the  "  Old  Dominion  " 
had  been  driven  into  Fleet's  Bay,  when  a  letter  was 
handed  to  Mr.  Palmore,  at  the  office.  It  was  addressed 
to  his  daughter,  and  bore  the  New  York  City  postal 


452671 


38  THE   CRIMSON   STAB;    OR, 

mark.  The  mind  of  the  old  gentleman  was  consider- 
ably "exercised  "  (as  they  say  in  New  England)  as  to 
who  the  correspondent  of  Medora  might  be ;  and  his 
astonishment  was  not  greater  than  that  of  the  fair  re- 
cipient when  she  beheld  the  name  of  Ralph  Bruster 
appended  to  the  document.  For  the  benefit  of  any  of 
the  male  sex  who  may  be  in  the  lawyer's  predicament, 
we  transcribe  the  remarkable  epistle  ;  first  begging 
permission  to  indulge  in  an  appropriate  quotation 
from  our  especial  favorite,  Dr.  Holland. 

"  He  would  write  her  a  letter — resort  of  timid  lovers 
from  time  immemorial.  Oh !  blessed  pen,  that  will 
not  stammer!  Oh!  brave  ink,  that  will  not  faint  and 
fade  in  the  critical  moment  of  destiny !  Oh !  happy 
paper,  that  cannot  blush !  Oh  !  faithful  cup,  that  bears 
one's  heart's  blood  to  the  lips  one  loves,  and  spills  no 
precious  drops." 

So  much  for  Dr.  Holland's  lover.  Now  we  will  return 
to  ours,  and  his  letter. 

"  Lady  !  but  twice  beheld,  yet  never  afterward  to  be 
forgotten — can  you  forgive  the  liberty  I  take  in  ad- 
dressing you,  when  not  even  the  conventional  neces- 
sity of  an  introduction  has  passed  between  us  ?  The 
madness  of  love  is  upon  me !  My  sole  excuse  (and  what 
man  who  has  enjoyed  that  bliss  would  deem  it  an  in- 
sufficient one  ?)  is,  that  I  have  seen  Miss  Palmore. 
That  vision  of  loveliness  has  filled  iny  heart  with  an 
emotion  never  before  experienced;  it  has  quickened 
every  pulse  of  my  being.  That  heart  which  I  had 
deemed  hard  has  become  soft  as  a  child's,  completely 


THE    MIDNIGHT   VISION.  39 

subdued  by  this  new  and  overwhelming  passion.  When, 
on  that  memorable  stormy  night  (a  happy  night  for 
me)  when  I  beheld  you  standing  with  the  lighted  lamp 
in  your  hand,  were  you  waiting  for  the  bridegroom, 
watchful  virgin?  standing  there,  beside  your  respected 
father,  an  image  of  youthful  beauty  and  filial  affection ! 
AVas  it  only  my  rash  fancy,  or  did  you  understand, 
and  tremble  with  maiden  bashfulness  beneath  my 
perhaps  too  ardent  gaze  ? 

"  Beautiful  Medora !  you  perceive  that  I  have  learned 
your  name.  Lovely  Medora!  and  again  we  met  in 
your  garden. 

"  '  Proserpine  gathering  flowers, 
Herself  a  fairer  flower.' 

"  There  you  completed  your  conquest — there  you  en- 
tirely subjugated  my  heart. 

"  Shall  beauty  such  as  thine  be  forever  buried  in  the 
country?  What!  consign  to  obscurity  a  face  and  form 
worthy  to  grace  an  emperor's  court !  Never,  beloved 
Medora.  Permit  it  to  be  my  envied  lot  to  bear  you  into 
a  circle  which  you  are  fitted  to  dazzle  and  charm.  Let 
me  make  you  queen  of  all  you  survey. 

"My  heart  goes  in  advance  of  this  letter;  my  soul 
faints  as  it  asks  itself  what  is  to  be  the  welcome  of 
this  epistle!  Will  you  condescend  to  listen  to  an 
old  man's  love  ?  and  consent  to  become  the  joy,  the 
pride,  the  darling  of  his  heart  ?  He  will  do  all  in  the 
power  of  man  to  compensate  you — even  for  the  kind- 
ness of  receiving  and  reading  this.  Cast  it  not  into 


40  THE   CKIMSON    STAR;    OK, 

the  flames,  although  my  heart  is  now  on  fire.  To  lore 
me  as  I  love  you  is  more  than  I  can  expect;  but  give 
me  your  respect,  your  esteem — oh !  give  me  yourself. 
You  should  be  in  New  York,  and  no  doubt  all  the  fair 
belles  of  this  great  city  would  sink  into  comparative 
nothingness,  were  you  to  appear. 

"  Pardon,  pardon  the  illusion — but  I  have  wealth 
untold.  Be  my  wife,  and  it  is  yours.  Never  a  wish 
shall  be  denied  ;  take  all  I  possess;  I  ask  only  your- 
self. 

"The  generous  hospitality  received  from  your  es- 
teemed father  can  never  be  forgotten.  I  beg  you  will 
present  to  him  my  grateful  thanks  and  highest  respect. 
I  await  but  one  word  of  encouragement  from  you  to 
put  him  into  possession  of  all  necessary  credentials  as 
to  my  character,  position,  circumstances,  etc.,  etc.  I 
would  hare  come  to  you  myself,  even  before  this, 
but  that  it  has  been  impossible  for  me  to  leave  my 
business  at  present. 

"  My  heart  beats  wildly  as  with  the  passion  of  youth. 
That  heart,  dear  Miss,  is  on  fire;  neither  peace  nor 
rest  can  it  again  know  until  I  hold  against  it  your 
willing  hand.  Medora  I  Medora  !  I  feel  that  you  are 
to  be  mine." 

"  Not  a  word  about  the  war,"  said  Medora,  as  she 
folded  the  letter  and  laid  it  aside. 

This  strange  epistle,  with  its  seeming  simplicity, 
yet  really  artful  subtlety,  Miss  Palmore  was  far  from 
appreciating  at  its  real  value.  Her  first  impulse  was 
to  laugh  at  the  absurd  rhapsody  of  an  old  man.  When 


THE    MIDNIGHT   VISION.  41 

she  re-read   it,  she  could  not  but  feel,  yet  she  was 
scarcely  able  to  define,  its  utter  want  of  delicacy. 

"I  am  certain,"  she  murmured,  "that,  had  he  the 
wealth  of  Peru  at  his  command,  I  could  never  love 
him ;  and  I  pray  God  that,  without  love,  I  may  never 
marry  living  man.  Let  me  not  be  duped  into  a 
wealthy  match.  Is  not  the  world  already  filled  with 
misery  arising  from  such  unholy  unions  ?  Yet,  if  this 
man  really  loves  me — and  why  indeed  should  he  seek, 
save  for  love  ? — far  be  it  from  me  to  treat  with  indigna- 
tion a  true  affection.  Well  may  they  say, 

'  Scorn  no  man's  love  ;   though  of  a  mean  degree, 
Love  is  a  present  for  a  mighty  being.'" 

"I  do  not  comprehend,  nor,  I  fear,  appreciate  what 
he  calls  his  overwhelming  passion  ;  but  I  can  return 
his  letter,  with  a  few  gentle  words  of  refusal.  But  "— 
after  a  long,  thoughtful  pause — "  I  am  certain  that  I 
neither  like  him  nor  his  letter." 

.  Medora  sat  busily  embroidering,  into  life-like  colors, 
an  Egyptian  lily,  when  her  father  entered  the  library. 
Medora  dreaded  the  raillery  of  her  fastidious  parent. 

"Well,  my  morning-star"  (this  being  one  of  his 
favorite  pet  names),  "and  who  may  be  your  Yankee 
correspondent?" 

"Guess,  as  they  say  in  Yankeedom,"  she  merrily 
replied,  while  the  color  sensibly  deepened  on  her 
cheek. 

"  Well,  here  goes !  I  guess  (looking  profoundly  wise) 
that  'tis  a  queer-eyed  old  gentleman,who  popped  in  upon 


42  THE   CRIMSON   STAR;    OR, 

us  at  dead  of  night,  like  a  genteel  ghost,  some  months 
ago." 

"Papa,  there  is  surely  Puritan  blood  in  your  veins. 
Your  'guess 'is  charmingly  correct.  How  did  you 
make  it  out  ?  " 

"You  must  be  careful  whom  you  allow  to  be  your 
Mercury,  if  you  wish  your  'tender  secret' preserved. 
I  had  the  honor  of  receiving  that  voluminous  epistle 
at  the  office,  and  I  have  not  yet  become  so  antique  but 
that  I  recognize  a  New  York  post-mark  when  it  is  put 
right  under  my  nose." 

Medora,  blushing  and  laughing,  rose  to  put  the  letter 
into  his  hands. 

"Keep  it,  Medora,  keep  it ;  I  shall  not  read  it.  No 
man,  be  he  as  ugly  as  his  satanic  majest}',  and  as  old  as 
Methuselah,  relishes  having  his  love-letters  perused  by 
another  than  the  one  whose  eyes  they  were  intended 
for.  "  Then,  more  seriously :  "  I  have  confidence  in 
you,  my  daughter;  do  you  intend  to  reply?  " 

"Only  by  a  few  words  of  refusal,  papa;  any  man 
merits  that  respect — and  I  shall  return  his  letter." 

"  As  your  heart  dictates,  thus  act,  my  child.  I  have 
never  meddled,  either  to  make  or  mar  a  match,  and  I 
never  mean  to.  But  you  see  the  difficulty  arising  now 
between  the  North  and  South :  war  is  evidently  on  the 
carpet,  since  John  Brown  made  his  bloody  retreat  in 
the  State,  and  our  people  have  been  intending  to  en- 
dure this  trouble  no  longer.  Therefore,  be  considerate, 
and  remember,  if  you  should  even  commence  a  little 
flirtation  with  your  midnight  admirer,  you  might  get 


THE   MIDNIGHT   VISION.  43 

into  trouble ;  so  I  warn  you  in  time  to  flee  from  the 
wrath  to  come.    You  must  decide." 

As  the  old  gentleman  ceased  speaking,  Mrs.  Palmore 
entered  the  room.  Medora  stood  with  the  open  letter 
in  her  hand.  What  instinct  was  it  that  made  her 
almost  fear  her  mother's  scrutiny  ? 

"What  have  you  there,  Medora?"  inquired  the  old 
lady,  with  spectacles  astride  her  nose.  The  daughter 
silently  offered  the  letter  for  her  perusal.  No  scruples 
beset  the  conscience  of  Mrs.  Palmore,  who  made  herself 
mistress  of  the  billet  doux  in  an  incredibly  short  space 
of  time. 

"Oh  !"  murmured  she,  as  she  drew  near  the  close  of 
the  epistle ;  "  he  is  rich  it  appears,  and  wealth  un- 
told?" 

"So  I  suppose,"  said  Medora;  "but  I  do  not  wish 
him,  had  he  the  world  at  his  command.  I  think  it  a 
great  piece  of  indelicacy  to  write  to  me  without  even 
the  salvo  of  an  introduction." 

"Ah,  my  dear,"  replied  the  crafty  mother,  "  a  man  in 
love  is  not  to  be  judged  by  ordinary  rules.  You 
remember  the  old  saying, '  better  be  an  old  man's  dar- 
ling than  a  young  man's  slave.'  They  say  there  will  be 
war,  but  I  do  not  believe  it." 

"  Yes,  mamma,  and  I  also  recollect  another  elegant 
and  appropriate  distich,  or  stanza,  as  brother  Vincent 
used  to  say : 

'  Luve,  luve,  luve  ! 

Luve's  like  a  dizziness  ; 
It  wanna  let  a  puir  body 
Gang  about  his  business.'  " 


44  THE  CRIMSON  STAB;  OR, 

And,  laughing  lightly,  Medora  escaped  from  the 
room,  and,  hastening  to  her  own,  quickly  wrote  this, 
her  first  love-letter,  enclosed  it  in  an  envelope,  and 
dispatched  it  to  the  office. 

"That  will  end  all  discussion,"  she  mentally  ejacu- 
lated. 

On  a  beautiful  sunset  eve  in  June,  the  Palmore 
family  occupied  the  piazza.  Jasper  Palmore  was  now 
at  home,  and,  at  this  moment,  engaged  in  an  exciting 
game  of  chess  with  his  sister.  All  at  once  a  "solitary 
horseman"  was  seen  advancing  toward  the  house. 
He  alighted,  and  slowly  came  forward;  as,  he  ap- 
proached, he  developed  into  Mr.  Ralph  Bruster,  who, 
without  bashfulness,  offered  his  hand,  and  addressed 
Mr.  Palmore  by  name. 

"  I  believe  I  see  our  friend  Mr.  Bruster,"  said  the 
old  gentleman,  taking  the  proffered  hand. 

"Right,  my  dear  sir,  and  this  time  not  accidentally 
blown  here  by  a  storm,  but  willfully  come  to  claim  your 
gratefully-remembered  hospitality.  Having  business  in 
the  direction  of  Fredericksburg,  I  could  not  resist  a 
desire  to  call  and  inquire  after  the  welfare  of  yourself 
and  family." 

Mr.  Bruster  was  invited  in,  and,  upon  entering  the 
porch,  received  the  due  introduction  to  the  family,  and 
was  thus  for  the  first  time  presented  to  Medora,  who, 
under  the  circumstances,  was  compelled  to  receive  the 
uninvited  guest  with  politeness. 

Quickly  the  evening  fled,  and  Medora  was  obliged 
to  acknowledge  to  herself  that  the  strange  man  pos- 


THE    MIDNIGHT   VISION.  45 

sessed  a  fund  of  conversation,  and  was  able  to  make 
himself  exceedingly  agreeable.  He  alluded  to  the  war, 
but  hoped  it  might  all  blow  over,  and  supposed  it 
would.  He  recalled  all  the  few  incidents  of  his 
storm-driven  visit;  he  dwelt  on,  and  magnified,  the 
kindness  of  Mr.  Palmore;  quickly  and  correctly  he 
read  the  covetous  heart  of  the  worldly  hostess,  and 
contrived  to  incidentally  mention  a  thousand  telling 
items.  When  bed-time  arrived,  he  arose  to  take  leave, 
and  go  in  search  of  a  hotel.  Hoary  dissembler !  He 
had  come  with  the  intention  of  passing  more  than 
one  night  beneath  that  roof.  Of  course,  he  was 
pressed  to  remain,  and  very  graciously  consented. 
How  different  were  the  visions  that  visited  the  pillows 
of  the  various  inmates  of  Edge  Hill  Manor-house  that 
night !  Mrs.  Palmore  and  her  strange  guest — what  saw 
they  in  the  future?  And,  ah!  what  dreamed  not  the 
beautiful  Medora ! 


46  THE    CRIMSON    STAB;    OR, 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE   PROPOSAL   AND   ACCEPTANCE. 

'HE  next  morning,  while  seated  in  the  par- 
lor, after  breakfast,  Mr.Bruster  was  not  at  all 
diffident  in  making  his  business  known  to 
the  daughter,  who  felt  herself  compelled  to 
listen  to  his  overtures  of  love  and  adoration  to  the 
girl  who  sat  amused,  while  listening  to  his  admiration. 
He  had  come  a  long  distance  to  make  it  known,  and 
she  treated  him  with  formal  respect.  But  the  sweet 
gentleness  of  her  manner  only  tended  to  augment 
the  passion  of  the  lawyer.  He  appeared  to  Medora 
more  in  the  light  of  some  aged  relative,  than  as  a  suit- 
or. From  respect  to  his  gray  hairs,  she  listened  kind- 
ly to  his  love-tale,  but  gave  him  never  a  word  or  look 
of  encouragement. 

But  Mr.  Bruster  was  an  old  fox,  not  so  easily  scared 
from  his  game.  Like  an  expert  laywer,  he  pleaded  his 
case  well,  and  left  her  to  dream  upon  the  eloquence  of 
his  address ; 

"  For  a  winning  tongue  had  he." 

He  was  going  up  the  river  to  Frederick sburg  upon 
"  business,"  he  said,  and  would  return  in  about  a  fort- 
night. In  the  most  respectful  manner,  he  begged 


THE   MIDNIGHT   VISION.  47 

our  heroine  to  reflect  upon  what  he  had  said  ;  to  grant 
him  the  indulgence  of  qniet  meditation ;  and,  above 
all,  not  to  forget  that  he  loved  her  more  than  he  could 
express,  and,  unpossessed  of  her,  would  be  forever  un- 
happy. As  he  left  her,  he  pressed  her  hand  to  his 
lips,  and,  when  it  was  released,  she  beheld  a  tear  upon 
her  slender  fingers. 

Medora  mechanically  watched  from  the  drawing- 
room  window  her  ancient  adorer  ride  slowly  out  of 
view.  She  musingly  murmured, — 

"  Even  in  our  ashes  grow  the  wonted  fires." 

After  such  an  exhibition  of  affection,  it  was  im- 
possible for  her  to  feel  quite  so  indifferent  to  the  fate 
of  a  New  York  lawyer.  "  Love  engenders  love,"  says 
the  old  adage ;  and,  even  though  a  woman  cannot  love, 
yet  she  has  a  heart  full  of  sympathy.  Men,  aware  of 
this  gentle  feeling  that  exists  in  the  female  breast, 
have  made  use  of  it  to  decoy  many  a  beautiful  woman 
on  to  destruction.  The  serpent's  powers  of  persuasion 
have  descended  to  many  of  the  sons  of  Adam. 

After  the  departure  of  their  visitor,  the  mother  of 
Medora  was  greatly  "  exercised,"  to  discover  the  sub- 
ject of  their  long  conversation  in  the  parlor.  Having 
conceived  magnificent  ideas  of  the  wealth  and  social 
importance  of  Mr.  Bruster,  Mrs.  Palmore,  so  far  from 
being  averse  to  this  match  of  disparity,  had  deter- 
mined to  do  all  in  her  power  to  further  the  suit. 
Medora  was  by  no  means  inclined  to  satisfy  the  curi- 
osity of  her  maternal  adviser. 


48  THE    CRIMSON    .STAR  ;    OR, 

"  I  should  aa  soon  think  of  wedding  my  grand- 
father," she  gayly  cried,  as  she  ran  out  of  the  room  to 
prepare  for  her  daily  ride. 

"And,  ma!  he  is  an  abolitionist;  and,  my  dear 
mother,  if  there  were  no  other  objection,  he  and  I  would 
hardly  agree,  as  our  educations  have  been  so  differ- 
ent." 

"JX"o,  no;  I  guess  not,"  said  her  mother. 

Faithfully,  at  the  expiration  of  the  stated  time, 
appeared  the  lover  per  se  at  the  door  of  his  youthful 
mistress.  Partial  satisfaction  sat  impressed  upon  his 
marked  features.  "  Faint  heart  ne'er  won  fair  lady ! " 
And  what  had  Mr.  Ralph  Bruster,  the  keen  legal  ad- 
viser, to  do  with  discouragement !  He  remained  only 
a  few  days,  but  he  was  far  from  idle  during  this  time. 
Never  was  princess  wooed  with  more  knightly 
ardor.  Subtle  and  eloquent,  his  language  might  com- 
pete with  that  of  hunchback  Eichard,  when  he  sought 
to  beguile  the  widowed  heart  of  Queen  Anne ! 

The  lady,  at  least,  could  no  longer  doubt  his  sincer- 
ity— his  eloquence  she  had  always  been  obliged  to 
own.  Again  he  described  his  feelings  upon  their  first 
meeting,  and,  for  the  hundredth  time,  expatiated  upon 
her  exquisite  charms.  The  beauties  of  nature,  the 
surroundings  of  her  home,  seemed  to  acquire  new 
elegancies  from  the  language  in  which  they  were  now 
described.  In  choicest  words  he  painted  the  bay,  the 
river,  the  groves,  the  grottoes,  and  the  "  leafy  verdure  " 
of  Edge  Hill.  He  went  from  beauty  to  beauty, 
until  his  fair  listener  almost  persuaded  herself  to  the 


THE  MIDNIGHT  VISION.  49 

belief  that  the  orator  himself  partook  of  the  beauty 
he  so  eulogized. 

But  not  with  one  of  the  surroundings  of  Edge  Hill 
had  "his  winning  tongue"  to  do.  In  imagination  he 
bore  Medora  to  his  own  home  on  the  Hudson  ;  dilated 
upon  the  unsurpassed  beauties  of  the  noble  river ; 
described  in  glowing  accents  the  Tappan  Sea,  and 
declared  that  his  fairy-like  yacht  should  from  hence- 
forth be  called  the  "'Southern  Star !  "  Then,  he  had 
traveled  "far  and  wide/' and  Medora's  charmed  ear 
drank  in  descriptions  of  other  lands  she  had  longingly 
desired  to  visit. 

Love  she  certainly  did  not — could  not — feel  for  her 
wealthy  suitor;  but  her  respect  bowed  down  before 
one  of  so  much  learning  and  experience,  and  who  bore 
her  into  such  different  scenes  of  life,  and  so  new  a 
world  of  thought.  He  was  enthusiastic  in  his  descrip- 
tion of  the  romantic  village  of  Catskill,  and  also  spoke 
of  the  beautiful  scenery  of  the  Mountains;  but  dwelt 
more  particularly  on  the  rural  scenery  and  exquisite 
grandeur  of  the  Cauterskill  Falls  at  the  Laurel 
House. 

Our  hero  at  length  tookleave  of  Edge  Hill,  buthe  bore 
away  with  him  two  satisfactory  promises,  to  wit:  Mr. 
Pal  more  pledged  himself  to  return  hisvisitin  New  York; 
and  Miss  Pal  more  had  consented  to  reply  to  his  next 
letter.  His  last  whispered  words  in  Medora's  ear  con- 
veyed again  to  her  intelligence  that,  should  she  ever 
consent  to  become  his  wife,  he  would  make  her  the 
happiest  woman  on  earth. 


50  THE  CBIMSOST  STAR;  OR, 

"Oh,  man  ! — is  treachery  your  boast? 

And  faith  to  disavow  ? 
Te're  falsest  when  ye  promise  most, 
And  when  ye  lowliest  bow." 

Patience!  let  us  see  the  end  of  this  eager  wooing. 
Mrs.  Palmore,  true  descendant  of  Eve,  had  accidentally 
overheard  the  last  conversation  which  took  place  be- 
tween Medora  and  her  lover;  and  the  old  lady  found 
much  to  incense  her,  at  the  lack  of  judgment  in  the 
manner  of  her  daughter. 

"  Medora,  why  are  you  so  cool  to  Mr.  Bruster  ?  He 
is  a  most  agreeable  person,  and  one  in  whom,  I  am 
sure,  your  father  has  confidence,  or  he  would  not  have 
promised  to  return  his  visit." 

"  He  must  visit  soon  then,  or  he  will  be  in  the  war," 
said  Medora.  "  Mamma,  Mr.  Bruster  did  not  presume 
to  find  fault  with  my  manner ;  on  the  contrary,  he 
pronounced  it  most  graceful,  and  full  of  charming 
naivete." 

"  Don't  be  silly  and  Frenchified,  child ! "  Then,  after 
a  long  pause — "  Medora,  is  your  heart  of  stone  ?" 

"  Mamma,  ask  the  gentleman ;  his  is  sufficiently 
antique  to  have  become  ossified." 

"Pshaw!  Mr.  Bruster  is  very  rich." 

"  Alas,  for  him !  his  wealth  cannot  purchase  for  him 
a  single  juvenile  grace." 

"You  cannot  do  better  than  marry  him.  Wealth 
and  position  are  by  no  means  despicable  conditions  of 
matrimony." 

"  Marry  him,  ma !  and  go  North  at  such  a  critical 


THE   MIDNIGHT  VISION.  51 

time,  when  we  know  there  is  going  to  be  a  rebel- 
lion?" 

"  I  do  not  believe  it,"  said  her  mother. 

"  I  could  never,  never,  love  Mr.  Bruster." 

"  And  yet  he  is  more  learned  and  agreeable  than  any 
young  man  that  you  have  ever  known." 

"Assuredly;  and  I  must  confess  that  I  feel  much 
more  kindly  towards  him  than  I  did  at  first." 

The  old  lady  hastened  from  the  room,  her  step  seem- 
ingly quickened  with  joy  to  hear  her  daughter  con- 
cede even  so  much  in  favor  of  the  New  York  lawyer. 

The  summer  was  fast  fleeting,  and  autumn  was  ap- 
proaching with  visible  strides,  when  Mr.  Pal  mo  re,  hav- 
ing a  little  business  in  that  direction,  was  persuaded  by 
his  wife  to  no  longer  delay  his  visit  to  the  North.  Ac- 
cording to  her  command,  he  was  by  no  means  to  neg- 
lect visiting  Mr.  Bruster.  Mrs.  Pal  more  wished  to 
hear  accounts  of  this  much-eulogized  property  from 
an  eye-witness,  whom  she  could  implicitly  trust.  The 
planter,  like  a  good  husband,  obeyed  the  instructions 
of  his  better  half. 

Mr.  Bruster  was  more  than  delighted  to  welcome  his 
Virginia  friend,  and  the  father  of  the  young  lady  who 
had  captivated  his  heart,  as  he  made  no  scruple  of  in- 
forming that  personage.  Masculine  antiquity  seems 
easily  enslaved  by  feminine  youth  and  beauty.  An  old 
man  may  really  love  a  young  girl,  but  he  must  be  a 
very  foolish  old  dotard  to  believe  that  a  young  girl  can 
really  love  him  with  a  passion  deeper  than  that  she 
feels  for  her  father.  Ardor,  on  the  part  of  the  youth- 


52  THE    CRIMSON   STAR;    OR, 

ful  maiden,  for  old  age,  is  out  of  question,  and  yet  we 
see  such  disparity  united  every  day  of  our  lives !  Ah, 
but  love  is  far  enough  away !  Money,  position,  some 
such  selfish  reason  is  the  motive  power.  Can  we  won- 
der that  there  are  so  many  shipwrecks  of  matrimonial 
happiness  ? 

When  Mr.  Palmore  took  leave  of  his  hospitable  host, 
of  course  invitations  for  future  visiting  were  exchanged. 
Mr.  Bruster  announced  that  he  hoped  to  have  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  him  again  in  a  few  weeks;  having  a 
law-suit  pending  in  Fredericksburg,  he  would  avail 
himself  of  the  opportunity,  and  once  more  look  upon 
his  charming  family. 

The  planter  was  a  man  of  some  penetration,  and  by 
no  means  so  infatuated  with  Bruster  and.  his  gold  as 
was  the  partner  of  his  bosom.  After  he  had  visited 
the  lawyer,  he  could  not  but  perceive  that  his  host, 
from  his  manner  of  living,  must  be  in  excellent  world- 
ly circumstances.  But,  in  regard  to  the  man  himself, 
uncomfortable  and  unaccountable  doubts  beset  the 
mind  of  the  old  gentleman.  In  conjugal  obedience, 
he  had  taught  himself  to  look  upon  this  person,  whose 
acquaintance  had  been  formed  in  so  peculiar  a  manner, 
as  his  probable  future  son-in-law;  but  the  anticipation 
by  no  means  gave  him  the  satisfaction  that,  in  years 
gone  by,  when  joking  little  Medora  on  his  knee  about 
that  important  personage,  he  had  hoped  to  expe- 
rience. 

Ah,  well  for  present  comfort  is  it  that  the  future  is 
veiled,  always  veiled.  Mad  would  we  be  from  our 


<": 

THE   MIDNIGHT  VISION.  53 

births,  could  we  but  once  lift  the  cloud  behind  which 
sits  destiny. 

The  night  of  his  arrival  home,  after  the  old  couple 
had  retired,  Mrs.  Prflmore  endeavored  to  relieve  her 
mind  by  questioning  her  lord.  She  did  not  think  of 
the  political  trouble  that  was  just  about  to  break  out 
in  fury  upon  them. 

'•Wife!"  was  the  reply  she  received,  "I  had  rather 
not  say  anything  in  regard  to  Mr.  Bruster,  as  I  passed 
only  a  few  hours  beneath  his  roof,  and  know  very 
little  more  about  him  than  I  did  on  the  first  evening 
he  happened  to  come  here  in  a  storm  ;  and,  were  I  to 
give  my  opinion  of  the  man,  I  should  say  that  he 
appears  like  one  that  has  been  in  a  storm  all  his  life, 
a.nd  not  only  wrecked  himself,  but  others,  connected 
with  him  in  some  way,  are  even  now  on  some  sterile 
rock,  from  home  and  friends  away.  And  besides,  I 
know  there  will  be  war  between  the  North  and  South, 
and  I  do  not  wish  Medora  to  leave  us." 

"Dear  me!"  exclaimed  the  old  woman;  "hus- 
band, what  a  queer  man  you  are  to  form  such  no- 
tions about  things  in  general,  and  a  man  who 
appears  such  a  perfect  gentleman,  and  who  is  so 
wealthy." 

"Oh,  yes!"  answered  Mr.  Palmore,  winking  his  left 
eye  at  some  imaginary  auditor;  "so  it  was  with  Rich- 
ard the  Third,  and  Henry  the  Eighth,  and  that  Alex- 
ander who  married  Cleopatra,  and  caused  her  to  be 
put  to  death  after  a  honeymoon  of  nineteen  days'  dura- 
tion— then  reigned  alone  for  fifteen  years.  'Tis  said 


54  THE    CRIMSOX   STAR  ;    OR, 

that  murder  and  parricide  were  the  fashion  in  those 
times,  brought  in  by  princes  and  princesses.  Thank 
God !  those  days,  and  those  men  and  women,  have 
passed  away.  But,  strange  to  say,  wife,  I  fear  that 
some  of  the  dregs  have  been  left  to  torture  some  one 
in  our  new  country." 

"  Don't  talk  again  about  my  queer  notions,  Mr. 
Palmore ;  they  are  only  surpassed  by  your  own." 

"  Well,"  said  the  husband,  coolly,  "  we  cannot  ac- 
count for  strange  *  impressions.'  Our  ideas  flow  sponta- 
neously, and  'tis  not  in  our  power  to  throw'them  aside. 
But,  seriously,  Mrs.  Palmore,  what  I  have  uttered 
in  regard  to  the  stranger  who  was  bloAvn  here  in  a 
hurricane,  like  an  evil  spirit,  are  ideas  that  have  been 
suggested  to  me  by  some  power.  I  know  not  what.  Time 
will  prove.  I  only  hope,  that  I  may  be  mistaken  in 
regard  to  Bruster.  One  thing,  at  any  rate,  is  certain : 
I  will  never  consent  that  he  shall  marry  my  daughter 
— no,  never !  Although  he's  a  rich  man,  and  may  pos- 
sibly be  a  good  man,  yet  Medora  is  happy  in  my  house, 
and  here  she  shall  stay  so  long  as  it  pleases  her  so  to 
do.  When  she  chooses  to  change  her  situation  and 
name,  she  has  admirers  whose  parentage  we  know, 
and  meu  whom  Medora  has  been  acquainted  with  from 
childhood." 

"Oh,  dear!  old  man,"  interrupted  his  wife,  "how 
childishly  you  talk.  Can  Medora  do  better  than  to 
become  the  wife  of  a  wealthy  New  York  lawyer  ?  Go 
to  sleep." 

The  old  lady  was  quite  out  of  humor  with  her  liege 


THE    MIDNIGHT   VISION.  55 

lord,  who,  however,  soon  gave  notice,  by  certain  pecul- 
iar nasal  sounds,  that,  like  a  good  husband,  he  obeyed 
her  last  command. 

Again  the  weeks  computed  themselves  into  months, 
but  they  brought  Medora  no  billet-doux  from  her 
hoary  lover.  Although  surprised  at  his  remissness,  she 
could  not  but  feel  relieved  by  the  conclusion  that  he 
had  given  up  the  pursuit.  The  eagle  does  not  relin- 
quish chase,  nor  is  the  vulture  easily  diverted  from 
prey.  Perched  upon  some  lofty  peak,  he  watches 
the  innocent  lamb  at  its  gay  gambols  in  the  sunny 
fields.  At  length,  with  '-'one  fell  swoop,"  he  rapidly 
descends  and  seizes  his  helpless  victim.  Lost!  lost! 
lost!  The  rocks,  the  mountains,  the  very  hills  seem 
to  echo  and  re-echo  the  eternal  cry.  We  fancied  she 
liked  a  Frenchman,  as  we  always  said,  by  coquet- 
ting; yet  whether  she  would  see  him  again  she  did  not 
know — only  knew  that  he  was  at  a  school  in  Paris. 
But  what  has  such  simile  to  do  with  the  well-bred, 
refined,  Aveal thy  Ralph  Bruster?  Read,  and  ye  shall 
learn.  Could  elegance  such  as  his  become  vile  ?  or 
a  manner  so  gentle  become  wicked,  especially  to  a 
wife  ?  Oh,  no;  that  seemed  an  impossibility. 

Nature  has  caused  the  tiny  seed  which  is  deposited 
in  the  earth  to  spring  up  and  put  forth  a  blade  of 
grass.  She  has  caused  the  wide-spreading  oak  to 
spring  into  existence  from  a  little  acorn.  She  has 
caused  the  cooling  brook  to  glide  through  a  burning 
desert,  and  the  umbrageous  grove  to  overshadow  the 
traveler  on  his  journey.  Nature  has  also  ordained 


56  THE    CRIMSON   STAB  J    OB, 

that  man  and  women  should  be;  and,  in  the  con- 
struction of  human  beings,  it  would  seem  that  some 
are  composed  of  good  material,  while  others  again  are 
concocted  of  a  combustible  matter  which  appears  to 
have  originated  in  the^lower  regions.  God's  Avorks  are 
perfect.  The  mountains,  the  rivers,  the  tiniest  of  the 
flowers  complete  from  His  hand.  Man  owes  his  degra- 
dation to  his  own  sinful  nature.  But  we  will  leave 
the  argument  to  metaphysicians;  and,  ere  we  close 
this  chapter,  let  us  take  a  peep  at  Edge  Hill  and  its 
inhabitants. 

'Twas  an  evening  in  early  spring.  At  an  open  win- 
dow sat  Medora,  wearying  her  eyes  in  the  endeavor  to 
make  out  the  fate  of  the  suffering  heroine  of  a  late 
novel — wearying  her  sweet  eyes  by  the  fading  twilight, 
when,  suddenly,  a  white-eyed  negress  bounced  into  the 
room. 

"  Miss  Dora,  dar  is  a  strange  gemmen  at  de  gate. 
He  bin  ax  me  was  de  massa  at  home.  I  telled  him 
'No,  sir,'  kase  I  knowed  dat  massa  and  missus  done 
gone  ober  to  Col.  Edmundses  dis  blessed  arternoon. 
Den  he  kinder  larfed,  and  ax  was  Miss  Medora  in  de 
house.  I  tole  him  'Yes,  sir.'  '  Where  is  she  ?'  says 
he.  '  In  de  house,'  says  I, '  as  I  done  tole  you  already/  " 

"  Well,  where  is  he,  Lucinda  ?  "  inquired  her  mis- 
tress; "  you  surely  have  not  left  him  out  of  the  house 
all  this  time." 

"  De  Lord !  Miss  Dora  ;  whether  he  am,  he  sartin  able 
to  help  hisself.  Afore  dis  chile  had  time  for  to  say 
what  ole  massa  done  teach  me  long  time  ago — 'horse- 


THE   MIDNIGHT   VISION.  57 

pertality,  no  formality/  dat's  it — he  jumps  off  de 
horse,  spry  as  a  June-bug,  and  entered  in.  No  'casion 
to  be  in  such  hurritude,"  added  the  daughter  of 
Ham,  as  her  indulgent  mistress  hastily  rose  from 
her  seat,  "  kase  he  is  an  ole  one,  an'  'mazin'  ordinary 
at  dat," 

Medora  laid  aside  her  book. 

"Into  wh at  room,  did  you  conduct  the  gentleman, 
Lucinda?" 

"No  'casion  to  kernduck  him — he  'vited  hisself,  and 
derposited  hisself  in  a  chere  in  de  drawing-room.  '  Ce- 
ley  says  she's  seen  him  here  afore,  and  she  thinks 
dat  he  look  like  he  is  dat  Yankee  lawyer  what  makes 
b'l'eve  he  likes  de  niggers  so  well  dat  all  he  wants  is  a 
chance  to  sell  'em." 

"  Silence !  Lucinda ;  you  allow  your  tongue  too 
much  license,  my  girl." 

Medora,  with  a  light  foot,  entered  the  drawing-room, 
and  who  should  she  find  awaiting  her  there,  sure  as 
life,  but  Mr.  Ralph  Bruster !  The  New  York  lawyer 
rose  to  meet  her. 


68  THE  CEIMSON  STAB;  OB, 

CHAPTER  IV. 

THE      WEDDING. 

rRACEFTJLLY  impressive  was  the  salutation 
of  the  gentleman;  apparently,  the  joy  of  his 
heart  was  too  great  for  words.  The  lady's 
'•'  Mr.  Bruster ! "  had  in  its  sound  more  of  sur- 
prise than  of  pleasure. 

"  I  hope  my  little  Virginia  girl  has  not  forgotten 
me,"  he  said,  respectfully  kissing  the  fair  hand  that 
was  extended  to  him  in  welcome. 

"  A  face  once  seen  is  never  forgotten  by  me,  Mr. 
Bruster,"  replied  the  lady,  with  a  smile.  She  could 
no  more  help  being  sweet  than  the  rose  could  with- 
draw its  fragrance. 

"  That  adds  another  to  your  list  of  perfections ;  a 
retentive  memory  leads  to  the  happy  inference  that 
you  possess  a  constant  heart."  And  the  lawyer  thought 
what  an  admirable  witness  she  would  make  in  a  case 
where  recognition  of  countenance  was  required. 

Then  followed  a  long  conversatioii,  in  which  his  re- 
missness  in  writing  was  ingeniously  converted  into 
a  virtue  rather  than  a  fault :  his  feelings  were  such 
that  he  could  not  trust  them  to  the  care  of  Uncle 
Sam's  postal  arrangement ;  he  had  hoped  to  have  been 
with  her  long  before  the  present  date,  and,  now  that 


THE    MIDNIGHT   VISION.  59 

he  was  happy  enough  to  find  himself  once  more  in  her 
presence,  all  he  had  suffered  seemed  but  as  a  troubled 
dream.  'Tis  useless  to  relate  what  followed.  Woman 
can  recall  to  mind  what  has  been  said  to  her  on  like 
occasions,  and  man  can  remember  or  imagine  what  he 
has  said,  or  would  say,  to  her  whom  he  was  determined 
to  win. 

So,  we  will  omit  as  much  of  the  courtship  of  our 
hero  as  possible.  The  crocodile  teal's  he  shed,  and  the 
tender  kisses  he  imprinted  upon  her  hand,  are  sufficient 
to  prove  what  he  thought  the  proper  way  by  which  to 
gain  a  lady's  favor.  Calling  her  "  dear  child,"  his  lit- 
tle "  Virginia  girl,"  showed  great  address. 

In  due  course  of  time,  Mr.  Palmore  and  his  lady  re- 
turned from  their  visit.  Surprised  were  they  to  be- 
hold their  unexpected  guest,  but  surprise  was  smoth- 
ered by  politeness.  All  the  mercenary  plans  of  Mrs. 
Palmore  returned  upon  her,  as  she  again  beheld  the 
wealthy  suitor  of  her  daughter.  She  remembered  all 
she  had  heard  him  allege  in  regard  to  his  vast  posses- 
sions, and  her  sordid  heart  fairly  jumped  for  joy  when 
she  recalled  to  mind  that  the  truth  of  this  had  been 
affirmed  by  means  of  the  visit  of  her  husband  to  New 
York. 

Wealth!  money!  gold!  What  power  has  it  over 
the  human  heart!  It  drives  reason  from  its  throne. 
It  destroys,  comparatively  speaking,  the  love  of  parents 
for  their  offspring.  It  has  caused  more  souls  to  be  en- 
gulfed in  misery  than  aught  else  upon  earth.  The 
love  of  gold  has  caused  more  misery  in  this  world  than 


60  THE   CKIMSON   STAR;    OE, 

any  one  thing ;  yet  we  see  the  human  family  bowing  to 
the  insatiable  idol. 

But  Mrs.  Palmore  was  only  excited  by  the  desire 
that  her  daughter  should  become  rich  and  powerful. 
To  marry  a  New  York  lawyer ;  to  ride  in  her  carriage, 
attended  by  obsequious  lackeys  ;  to  possess  plate,  dia- 
monds, pleasure  yachts,  and  all  that  belongs  to  a 
wealthy  and  fashionable  life,  wrere  delightful  anticipa- 
tions to  the  ambitious  mother;  but,  at  the  same  time, 
she  believed  this  much-courted  son-in-law  to  be  a  fine 
man,  and  one  who  would  treat  her  daughter  most 
kindly.  For  Medora,  like  most  Southern  girls,  had 
been  brought  up  as  tenderly  nurtured  as  a  hot-house 
plant.  Such  women,  when  the  storm  comes,  find  them- 
selves illy  prepared  to  meet  it.  Hence  so  many  of  our 
Southern  women  so  early  lose  their  charms,  and  pine 
away  and  die  when  the  chilling  blasts  of  adversity  fall 
upon  them.  When  a  flower  is  reared  in  the  shade, 
with  just  the  proper  quantity  of  dew  and  sunshine, 
how  fairly  it  blooms;  but  expose  the  tender  plant 
to  the  scorching  sun  and  biting  winds,  and,  alas!  how 
quickly  it  is  destroyed.  It  is  the  sensitive  plant  which 
shrinks  from  the  rough  finger;  when  it  is  pointed  at, 
it  droops,  withers,  and  falls  to  the  earth ;  it  has  not 
power  to  resist  the  magnetic  finger  which  crushes  it. 

Mrs.  Palmore  was  little  versed  in  the  botany  of  hu- 
man nature.  The  present  was  before  her,  clear,  and 
attractive;  little  thought  she  of  the  distant  future. 
The  lawyer  pressed  his  suit,  knowing  the  war  was  fast 
approaching. 


THE    MIDNIGHT   VISION.  61 

After  a  delay  of  several  days,  Mr.  Bruster  suddenly 
proposed  immediate  marriage.  Medora,  at  first,  posi- 
tively refused;  but  the  evident  desire  of  her  mother  to 
see  the  union  solemnized  astonished  her,  and  some- 
what staggered  her  resolution. 

"  Surely,"  she  reasoned  within  herself,  "  I  shall  be 
doing  right  to  act  according  to  what  my  parents  think 
best ;  but  oh !  ma,  dear  ma,  you  know  that  Eugene 
Appomore  and  I  have  kept  up  a  regular  correspond- 
ence since  lie  has  been  in  Europe,  and  I  know  that 
Eugene  loves  me,  and  will  return  when  he  finishes 
his  education.  Yes,  I  know  he  will;  I  think  of 
him.  and  cannot  help  it,  although  he  may  never  come 
back." 

Her  poetical  ideas  always  were  excited  when  she 
thought  of  Eugene,  and  she  whispered  these  stanzas : 

"  I  THINK  OF  THEE. 

"  I  think  of  thee,  I  think  of  thee, 
When  the  stars  are  shining  bright, 

And  when  the  rude  wind  howls  around 
My  lonely  home  at  night. 

"  I  think  of  thee,  I  think  of  thee, 
When  thou  sweetly  smiled  on  me  ; 

I  hear  thy  voice,  which  is  so  dear  ; 
Sweet  are  my  thoughts  of  thee. 

"  I  think  of  thro,  I  think  of  thee, 

Now  far  away  thou  be, 
At  midnight  hour,  when  dew-drops  fall 

tin-  leaflet  tree  ! 


62  THE   CRIMSON   STAR;' OB, 

"  I  think  of  thee,  I  think  of  thee, 

As  the  glistening  ivy  twine  ; 
Each  little  rose-bud,  with  its  germ, 

Seems  but  to  me  the  vine. 

"  I  think  of  thee,  I  think  of  thee  ; 

Alas  I  I  do  repine  ; 
My  constant  heart,  it  doth  lament 

That  thou  canst  ne'er  be  mine." 

"I  respect  Mr.  Bruster.  I  have  never  told  him 
I  loved  him ;  he  does  not  even  expect  it,  and  has  told 
me  over  and  over  again  that  he  will  be  satisfied  with 
my  respect.  I  have  never  deceived  him.  I  told  him 
I  was  partially  engaged." 

"  Oh !  impossible  indeed  for  youthful  beauty  to  love, 
as  a  wife  should  love  a  husband,  age  whose  hairs  are 
white  with  the  frost  of  sixty  winters,  and  whose  face 
bears  many  furrows  of  inexorable  time." 

When  he  was  aboiit  to  take  leave  he  gained  her  con- 
sent, through  and  by  means  of  many  fair,  strong 
promises  of  tenderness  unfailing,  and  kindness  ever- 
lasting. 

"  If  my  parents  are  willing,  if  they  desire  it,  I  will 
become  your  wife — if  not,  I  will  never  disobey  them," 
said  she. 

"  Not  if  your  heart  prompted  you  to  marry  one 
to  whom  they  were  opposed  ?" 

"  Never ! "  she  cried.  She  did  not  think  either  would 
consent. 

"  If  ever  so  desperately  in  love,  you  would  not 
elope  ?  "  asked  the  wily  lawyer. 


THE   MIDNIGHT  VISION.  63 

"Not  with  mortal  man!"  she  cried  indignantly. 
"I  will  ever  endeavor  to  do  my  duty  towards  my 
parents — to  obey  them  is  my  duty.  When  I  marry 
I  shall  try  to  love  and  to  obey  my  husband;  that  will 
be  an  easy  matter,  so  long  as  he  is  kind.  I  do  not 
know  what  I  should  do,  if  he  proves  the  contrary.  I 
have  never  been  tried.  Should  I  ever  disgrace  myself 
and  family,  it  will  be  as  much  my  misfortune  as  my 
fault.  Necessity  and  nnkindness  have  often  driven 
people  to  do  desperate  deeds ;  but  I  apprehend  no 
cause  for  my  committing  such  acts." 

"  I  hope  not,"  said  Mr.  Bruster.  "  If  you  become 
mine,  you  shall  have  no  excuse  for  not  being  happy." 

Then  the  lover  left  the  lady  he  loved,  and,  entering 
the  room  where  sat  the  father  and  mother,  with  great 
dignity  of  manner  proffered  his  suit.  He  might  not 
have  been  quite  so  persistent,  had  he  not  known  that  the 
rebellion  was  just  bursting  forth,  like  a  sleeping  vol- 
cano, and  in  a  short  time  all  communication  with  the 
South  would  be  ended. 

Mr.  Palmore  sighed  heavily  as  he  listened  to  the 
proposal.  After  Mr.  Bruster  had  ceased  speaking, 
there  was  a  silence  of  some  moments;  then  the  father 
of  Medora  spoke. 

"  Sir,"  he  said,  "  I  am  not  willing  to  permit  my 
daughter  to  go  so  far  from  home,  and  from  her  parents. 
If  you  will  remove  South,  and  she  is  willing  to  become 
your  wife,  I  have  nothing  further  to  say  against  it. 
You  are  absent  from  your  home  very  frequently,  and 
for  long  periods.  Medora  is  young  and  inexperienced, 


64  THE   CRIMSON   STAR;    OR, 

and  my  child  would  be  very  lonely  in  her  Northern 
home.  God  forbid  she  should  become  unhappy,  par- 
ticularly just  at  this  critical  time.  My  son  will  be 
away,  and  if  she  should  go,  then  we  will  be  all  alone." 

"  Your  Southern  life  is  very  different  from  our 
Northern  one,  I  know,"  replied  the  lover ;  "and  I  do 
not  deny  that,  for  a  while,  your  daughter  might  feel 
like  a  stranger  in  a  strange  land;  but  she  would  soon 
become  accustomed  to  Northern  rules  and  mode  of  life." 

"  We  are  now  on  the  verge  of  war,"  said  the  planter, 
"  and  my  daughter  is  better  off  here  with  her  parents. 
I  love  neither  snow  nor  icebergs.  However,  if  my 
child  is  willing- to  try  the  frigid  region,  she  can  do 
so.  I  will  not  prohibit  the  union." 

The  consent  of  Mrs.  Palmore  it  was  not  difficult  to 
obtain.  Among  other  attractions  that  the  match  held 
out,  she  said,  she  was  sure  that  the  change  of  climate 
would  be  of  immense  benefit  to  the  health  of  Medora 
— who  never  experienced  many  days  of  serious  ill- 
ness in  her  life.  Mr.  Bruster  promised  to  bring  his 
wife  to  visit  her  parents  whenever  she  should  express 
a  wish  to  do  so;  and  that  she  should  write  three  times 
per  diem  if  she  desired.  "  As  to  the  war,"  said  the 
lawyer,  "  Medora  can  write,  and  even  visit  her  parents, 
if  she  wishes;  she  can  also  run  the  blockade.  All 
things  will  be  well,"  prophesied  he. 

"  Pooh,  pooh,"  said  the  planter.  "  All  is  well,  that 
ends  well,"  replied  the  dissatisfied  father,  as  he  passed 
ont  of  the  room,  with  his  handkerchief  to  his  eyes. 
"  Poor  girl,  poor  girl ! "  he  muttered,  between  what 


THE   MIDXIGHT  VISION.  65 

sounded  very  like  sobs.  "  I  fear  that  you  are  one  among 
the  many  of  your  sex  who  are  born  to  travel  a  rugged 
path;  but  I  cannot,  will  not,  meddle  to  dissolve  the 
union." 

As  for  the  elated  Mr.  Bruster,  he  hastened  back  into 
the  room  where  he  had  left  Medora,  to  convey  "  the 
glad  tidings  of  much  joy."  As  he  announced  there- 
suit  of  his  mission,  Medora  looked  astounded.  She 
certainly  expected  that  her  father  would  object.  But, 
as  she  had  given  her  consent  to  abide  by  theirs,  she 
could  not  now  retract.  She  seemingly  was  controlled 
by  something,  she  knew  not  what;  although  she  did 
not  really  love  the  old  man,  yet  he  fascinated  her 
with  his  intelligence  and  tenderness,  caused  her  to  con- 
sent to  become  his  wife.  Women  are  often  led  astray 
by  kindness  ;  so  it  was  with  our  heroine. 

So  Mr.  Bruster  left,  to  return  again  in  six  weeks  to 
claim  his  bride.  He  expected  to  make  his  fourth  ap- 
pearance  in  the  ship  "Old  Dominion;"  and  he 
jokingly  observed,  that  he  hoped  his  bridal  advent 
would  be  preserved  from  storms.  In  the  finest  of 
spirits  the  lawyer  left  Northumberland.  To  him  the 
sun  shone  with  redoubled  brightness ;  all  nature 
seemed  revivified;  for  he  had  gained  his  point.  His 
promised  bride  was  to  him  enhanced  in  value,  because 
she  came  somewhat  unwillingly  to  his  arms.  His 
hopes  and  heart  beat  high. 

How  was  it  with  the  bride  elect?  A  dead  apathy 
seemed  to  have  fallen  upon  her  heart;  yet  she  imag- 
ined she  loved  the  lawyer,  she  mistook  for  satisfac- 


66  THE   CEIMSON   STAR;    OR, 

tion  in  having  obeyed  the  darling  wish  of  her 
mother's  heart.  If  father  and  mother  invoked  it  so  to 
be,  Medora  concluded  that  it  must  be  right.  She 
knew  it  was  all  a  joke  about  running  the  blockade, 
but  she  really  imagined  she  could  visit  her  friends  if 
there  should  be  war;  and,  if  not  now,  in  a  few 
years  she  knew  the  strife  must  eventually  end,  and 
then  all  would  be  right  between  the  two  sections  of 
country. 

Autumn,  dreary  autumn  came  again.  October,  with 
its  falling  leaf,  returned  once  more.  Trees  were  drop- 
ping their  rich  foliage;  sweet-scented  flowers  were 
faded  and  gone;  fields  had  given  up  their  green,  and 
become  sere  and  yellow  ;  the  few  grapes  which  yet 
clung  to  the  vines  were  shrunken  and  withered.  "  The 
melancholy  days"  were  coming  fast,  and  Medora 
Palmore  was  to  become  a  bride  ;  work-women  had 
wearied  their  eyes  over  satins  and  laces,  and  the  lady 
was  soon  to  be  in  readiness. 

Reader!  ponder  well  these  lines.  Whether  you  are 
married  or  single,  old  or  young,  let  the  mind  dwell 
seriously  upon  the  bridal  hour  of  the  heroine  of 
this  story.  We  say  that  the  young  lady  is  getting 
ready  to  be  married,  but  is  it  love  that  is  to  cement 
the  union  ?  She  is  daily  expecting  the  arrival  of  the 
groom  in  his  vessel,  the  "  Old  Dominion";  but  does  she 
watch  for  his  coming  with  love-lighted  eyes?  The 
family  at  Edge  Hill  were  all  in  confusion,  as  is 
usually  the  case  at  a  country  wedding.  Numbers  of 
guests  have  been  invited,  and  Medora  tried  hard  to  be- 


THE   MIDNIGHT   VISION.  G7 

lieve  that  she  thought  well  enough  of  Mr.  Bruster  to 
become  his  wife.  Eugene  had  dropped  the  correspond- 
ence, and  she  knew  not  why. 

Bruster,  knowing  that  he  had  gained  his  point,  was 
determined  nothing  should  stand  in  his  way.  Therefore, 
being  a  shrewd  lawyer,  he  managed  his  case  well,  and 
one  we  will  speak  of  another  time  had  to  pay  the  for- 
feit. In  six  weeks  from  the  time  he  left  Virginia,  he 
was  to  return  and  bear  away  the  prize — the  beautiful 
and  accomplished  Medora  Palmore  was  to  become  Mrs. 
Ralph  Bruster. 

Fair  winds  and  good  luck  bore  the  "  Old  Dominion  " 
on  her  voyage,  and  wafted  her  into  the  harbor  of  Fleet's 
Bay  in  the  prime  of  time.  She  arrived  during  thenight, 
and  when  Medora  awoke  at  sunrise  the  next  morning, 
and,  looking  from  her  window,  beheld  the  sight,  her  heart 
trembled  in  her  bosom  in  the  same  inexplicable  manner 
as  when  her  eyes  first  looked  upon  the  fatal  schooner. 

"Oh!"  thought  the  Virginia  girl,  "is  that  the  vessel 
freighted  by  my  future  lord  and  master?  Cease 
struggling,  foolish  heart!  thy  beatings  tell  me  that  it 
can  be  no  other.  Ah !  what  makes  me  feel  so  strange- 
ly ?  and  wherefore  am  I  tempted  to  wish  that  I  had 
never  been  born  ?  There  is  now  no  storm.  The  sky 
is  beautiful  and  clear.  The  sun  is  just  issuing  from 
his  eastern  home,  and  the  blue  waters  of  the  Chesa- 
peake never  looked  more  peaceful  and  serene." 

Tears  filled  the  lovely  eyes  that  looked  upon  the 
calm  landscape.  Her  reverie  continued: 

""What,  what  is  to  follow  this  strange   union?  0 


68  THE   CRIMSON   STAK  !    OK, 

God!  that  I  durst  withdraw  my  consent.  N"o!  'tis  im- 
possible. My  mother  would  die  of  chagrin.  Matters 
have  progressed  too  far.  I  myself  could  not  endure 
the  gibes  and  stare  of  the  wondering  neighborhood. 
My  word  has  been  given.  To-day  is  the  appointed 
time.  0  God!  Mamma,  mamma,  wherefore  have 
you  abetted  this  unsanctified  union  ?  Merciful  heaven 
forgive  me  if  I  am  about  to  do  wrong." 

All  this  the  pale  lips  whispered  to  themselves,  as  the 
beautiful  head  leaned  out  of  the  window.  "  The 
political  strife  now  seals  our  fate ;  we  are  going  to 
war,  and  it  may  be  a  long  while  before  I  see  my  home 
again.  And  what  a  strange  freak  for  a  groom  to  come 
in  a  vessel.  I  know  he  has  explained  all,  in  his  letters, 
by  saying  that  he  came  in  the  '  Old  Dominion,'  and 
accidentally  met  and  fell  HI  love  with  me." 

Just  at  this  moment,  a  light  footstep  was  heard  as- 
cending the  stairs,  and  there  came  a  gentle  tap  at  the 
door.  Not  wishing  to  be  seen  in  tears,  Medora  did 
not  withdraw  her  head  from  the  window.  The  intrud- 
er proved  to  be  a  domestic,  come  to  announce  the  ar* 
rival  of  the  bridegroom  elect.  Mr.  Palmore,  with  usual 
inattention  to  etiquette,  and  out  of  the  hospitality  of  his 
heart,  had  sent  to  summon  his  daughter  to  meet  her 
appointed  lord.  Medora  could  not  help  but  smile 
inwardly  at  the  simple  goodness  of  her  father;  but 
she  immediately  checked  the  symptoms  of  a  disrespect 
she  was  far  from  feeling — for  she  fully  returned  the 
deep  affection  of  her  parent.  Medora  turned  and  saw 
it  was  her  maid. 


THE   MIDNIGHT   VISION'.  69 

"Go  away,  Lucinda,"  she  said  to  the  loquacious  and 

excited  femme  de  cliambre  ;  "  and  do  not  come  to  me 
again  until  I  summon  you.  Give  my  love  to  papa, 
and  say  that,  not  feeling  very  well,  I  must  be  excused 
for-not  making  my  appearance  for  awhile."  The  girl 
vanished;  conveyed  her  message  to  Mr.  Palmore,  who 
forthwith  made  elaborate  excuses  to  the  guests,  among 
whom  was  the  clergyman  who  was  to  officiate  at  the 
approaching  ceremony,  and  whom  Mr.  Bruster  had 
asked  permission  to  bring  with  him  from  New  York; 
he  said  they  had  been  intimate  from  college  days. 

Breakfast,  which  meal  the  impatient  lawyer  had 
declined  to  take  on  shipboard — as  etiquette,  of  course, 
demanded — was  prepared  for  the  guests  in  true  South- 
ern hospitality  and  sumptuous  style.  The  reverend 
gentleman,  who  had  argued  with  Mr.  Bruster  the  un- 
conventionality  of  appearing  at  the  house  of  his  bride 
before  the  matutinal  meal,  when  he  viewed  the  table 
which  groaned  under  its  weight  of  luxuries,  added  a 
silent  clause  of  the  audible  blessing  he  invoked,  that 
this  argument  had  not  prevailed,  and  that  Mr.  Brus- 
ter, as  usual,  had  been  victorious  in  argument. 

After  Medora  had  dismissed  her  maid  from  the 
room,  she  locked  the  door,  and,  throwing  herself  upon 
the  bed,  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears.  After  the  parox- 
ysm had  subsided,  she  knelt  in  prayer,  and  earnestly 
besought  God  to  direct  her  course  through  life,  and 
to  give  strength  for  her  to  perform  the  duties  of  a 
wife.  From  the  exhaustion  of  her  feelings,  she  grad- 
ually subsided  into  an  easy  slumber,  in  which  the 


70  THE    CRIMSON   STAR;    OR, 

white  sails  of  the  ''Old  Dominion"  Avere  still  before 
her.  She  awoke  with  a  start,  and  a  feeling  of  terror 
came  over  her.  "Oh!  that  crimson  star,  and  that 
bloody  hand  uplifted,"  she  cried.  Just  at  that  moment 
her  mother  entered  the  room,  with  a  pleasant  smile 
upon  her  countenance,  saying :  "  Good  morning,  my 
daughter ;  how  do  you  feel  ?  The  groom  has  arrived." 

"  Oh !  ma,"  said  Medora,  gasping  for  breath,  pale 
and  trembling ;  "  such  a  shocking  dream  !" 

"  What  was  it,  my  dear  ?  "  said  her  mother. 

"  Why,  ma,  I  dreamed  it  was  midnight,  and  I  was 
standing  at  my  window,  gazing  out  upon  the  wide- 
spread canopy  of  the  heavens,  and  the  whole  firma- 
ment was  lighted  with  stars.  But  the  largest  star  I 
saw  was  a  red  one — oh,  so  red,  ma,  that  it  was  crimson ; 
and  it  seemingly  shot  towards  me,  and  near  it  was  a 
bloody  hand,  uplifted.  It  looked  as  if  it  were  bespat- 
tered with  blood.  The  hand  was  that,  apparently,  of 

Mr.  Bruster,  and  he  was Oh !  ma,  I  cannot  tell 

any  more — it  is  so  horrible.  I  shall  not  forget  this 
dream.  I  will  tell  it  all  another  time." 

"  Who  is  here  ?  "  she  cried  aloud,  almost  beside  her- 
self with  the  reality  of  her  vision. 

"  No  one  but  your  mother,"  said  the  old  lady,  quite 
terror-stricken  to  behold  her  daughter  in  such  a  state 
of  excitement  on  her  bridal  morning. 

Medora  arose  and  staggered  to  her  chair.  "  It  was 
only  a  dream,"  she  murmured,  between  her  pale  lips. 
"  It  might  be  a  vision  for  good  or  evil,  weal  or  woe." 

Her  mother  tried  to  console  her,  telling  her  that 


THE   MIDNIGHT   VISION.  71 

dreams  were  not  always  to  be  thought  of.  Perhaps 
she  had  been  premeditating  too  much,  and  had  not 
slept  soundly.  She  left  her  to  her  own  meditations. 
Medora  sat  for  a  while,  like  a  statue  on  her  chair,  gaz- 
ing out  upon  the  wide  waters  of  the  blue  Chesapeake, 
and  the  weird-looking  vessel  which  lay  at  anchor. 

••  What,  what  does  it  mean  ?"  she  cried ;  "what  is 
about  to  befall  me  ?  I  am  not  superstitious,  neither 
know  I  anything  concerning  that  strange  belief  they 
call  '  spiritual  manifestations.'  I  have  never  even 
believed  in  presentiments.  But  oh !  horrid,  horrid 
dream  !  "  she  exclaimed. 

She  remained  all  day  in  her  room.  In  the  after- 
noon the  sound  of  feet  came  rushing  to  her  door,  and 
she  was  compelled  to  admit  the  four  bridesmaids,  who, 
full  of  sport  and  vivacity,  soon  filled  the  silent  room 
with  tones  of  mirth  and  glee. 

"  Come,  fair  Medora,"  cried  Miss  Carter,  "  you  have 
moped  sufficiently  all  the  day  long;  'so  get  theeupnow, 
my  bonny,  bonny  lass,'  and  submit  to  be  decorated  for 
the  prettiest  bride  in  the  country." 

"  Well,  tell  me  what  to  do,"  returned  Medora,  smil- 
ing languidly.  "  I  will  promise  to  be  obedient." 

"  That  is  sensible,  indeed  !  Well,  in  the  first  place, 
eat  this  nicely-prepared  dinner  that  Lucinda  is  bring- 
ing in.  Are  you  aware,  '  maiden  mine,'  that  you  have 
fasted  all  day?" 

"  I  must  confess  that  I  do  not  experience  a  very 
realizing  sense  of  fullness,  as  the  Rev.  Mr.  Moore 
would  say,"  replied  Medora. 


72  THE   CRIMSON  STAR;    OR, 

Afc  this  moment  one  of  the  young  ladies,  who  had 
picked  up  a  book,  burst  into  a  peal  of  laughter. 

"  What  in  the  world  is  the  matter  ?  Is  approaching 
wifehood  a  fit  subject  for  mirth  ?  "  asked  Ida  Carter, 
with  mock  gravity. 

"  Oh !  here  is  a  novel  called  '  Cellia,' "  cried  the  silly 
reader,  "  and,  upon  my  word,  the  heroine  falls  in  love 
after  marriage,  and  not  with  her  husband;  and,  dear, 
dear,  she  is  about  to  elope  with  the  fellow.  Was  there 
ever  such  a  want  of  decorum  ?  I  hope  that  will  not 
be  the  case  with  you,  Medora;  but,  really,  that  future 
liege  lord  and  master  of  yours,  down  stairs,  is  a  cen- 
tury too  old  for  you." 

"  Belle  Meredith  !  have  done  with  your  nonsense," 
cried  Ida  Carter.  "  Medora  Palmore  knows  too  well 
that  it  is  not  proper  to  think  any  man  superior  to  her 
husband,  much  less  to  elope  with  him.  She  is  a  coun- 
try girl,  my  constituents,  brought  up  where  virtuous 
principles  are  breathed  in  the  very  air.  We  are  not 
full  of  romance  and  intrigue  from  our  cradles,  as  are 
some  of  the  city  belles.  Had  Medora  been  brought 
up  in  New  York  City,  like  her  excellent  but  some- 
what antiquated  intended  (here  her  beautiful  eyes 
seemed  running  over  with  mirth),  and  had  she  been 
in  the  habit  of  running  constantly  to  balls,  theaters 
and  operas,  and  remaining  out  with  gentlemen  until 
one  and  two  o'clock  in  the  morning;  then,  perhaps, 
we  might  argue  the  case,  as  my  friend,  the  lawyer 
down  stairs,  would  say.  As  it  is,  a  country  girl  for 
me,  North  or  South,  East  or  West.  They  are  the 


THE   MIDNIGHT   VISION.  73 

women  who  generally  are  virtuous,  and,  should  they 
happen  to  slide  a  little  out  of  the  holy  path,  they 
never  rest,  soul  or  body,  until  they  have  regained  their 
footing." 

"  Well,  really,  Miss  Ida,"  said  Belle  Meredith,  "  you 
have  preached  us  quite  a  sermon  upon  virtue.  I  did 
not  mean  to  attack  that  stiff  and  icy  personage ;  I  was 
speaking  of  falling  in  love  after  marriage — although 
he  is  a  radical,  I  know.  Such  men  have  been  the 
cause  of  the  threatening  war." 

"Would  not  that  be  the  very  opposite  of  virtuous  ?" 
interrupted  Ida  Carter.  "He  should  be  Union ;  yes, 
yes,  he  is  one  of  the  Union  men  surely,  now.  But 
Belle,  what  on  earth  is  the  matter  with  you  ?  here  you 
have  come  up  to  the  bridal  chamber  to  aid  in  making 
her  to  become  a  wife,  and  have  nearly  crazed  her  with 
your  foolish  talk." 

"Well,  really,"  drawled  the  mischievous  Meredith 
beauty,  "who  knows ?  A  woman  is  not  exactly  an 
iceberg,  or,  if  she  were,  does  not  science  extract  fire 
even  from  ice  ?  Suppose  a  woman  be  married  to  a  man 
as  old  as  Methuselah — suppose  she  is  daily  to  be 
brought  in  contact  Avith  another,  young  and  bewitch- 
ing as  Adonis— is  it  possible  to  prefer  the  thistle  to 
the  rose  ?  Cannot  one  love,  and  yet  remain  pure  in 
heart?" 

"  True,  oh !  true,  most  sage  Penelope !    There  has 

been  in  this  tempting  world  more  than  one  Lucretia! 

But  methinks  this  is  strange  conversation  for  the  ear 

of  a  bride.     Excuse  us,   Medora,"  cried  the  amiable 

4 


74  THE    CRIMSON    STAB;    OK, 

Ida,  as  she  threw  her  arms  about  the  neck  of  her 
friend  and  kissed  away  a  trembling  tear;  "we  should 
not  have  been  so  thoughtless.  Come  now,  ye  maidens 
all,  'tis  time  to  equip  the  bride.  Let  us  strive  to 
display  the  very  acme  of  taste ;"  and  she  sung,  melodi- 
ously, 

"  They  tell  me,  gentle  lady,  that  they  deck  thee  for  a  bride  ; 
The  wreath  is  woven  for  thy  hair— the  bridegroom  by  thy  side." 

"Excuse  us,  Medora,"  said  the'bridesmaid ;  "we  are 
rebels,  therefore  we  often  rebel ;  but  perhaps  in  igno- 
rance we  do  many  wicked  things — so  we  beg  to  be 
pardoned." 

Then  she  ceased  suddenly,  and  bit  her  lips,  as  one 
who  had  committed  something  mal  d  propos. 

In  two  hours  the  bride  was  in  readiness.  Why 
should  we  describe  her  attire  ?  Every  one  has  seen  a 
beaiftiful  bride.  Well,  fairer  than  she,  pure  and  beau- 
tiful as  the  morning  star,  looked  Medora.  Her  dusky 
curls  hung  in  rich  luxuriance  beneath  her  costly  veil ; 
pearls,  worth  a  prince's  ransom,  gleamed  upon  her 
snowy  neck  and  arms.  In  short  all  was  comme  ilfaut; 
and  the  girls,  after  exhausting  their  vocabulary  of 
adjectives  denoting  admiration,  ran  away  to  dress 
themselves,  in  order  to  captivate  the  hearts  that  the 
bride  would  in  charity  leave  to  them,  as  Ida  laughing- 
ly said. 


TIJE    MIDNIGHT    VISION.  75 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE   BRIDAL  TOUE. 

OON,  all  too  soon,  thought  Medora,  the 
brides-maids  came  flying  back,  like  a  flock 
of  white  doves.  The  gentlemen  were  sum- 
moned, and  with  them  Mr.  Bruster.  Our 
heroine  trembled  visibly  as  he  approached  her.  Noth- 
ing could  exceed  the  gentle  dignity  with  which  he 
saluted  her.  Pale  as  a  lily,  she  looked  as  beautiful 
as  that  spotless  flower. 

Well  might  the  heart  of  the  white-headed  groom 
tremble  in  his  breast  with  the  ardor  of  a  young  lover. 
But  was  it  conscious  love  that  made  her  shrink  and 
tremble  as  her  almost  husband  placed  her  arm  within 
his  own  ?  Alas! 

The  bridal  procession  descended  to  the  room  where 
the  company  awaited  them,  and,  in  a  brief  time,  ir- 
revocable words  pronounced  Medora  Palmore  the 
wife  of  Ealph  Bruster.  The  groom  was  dressed  in 
extreme  style,  tempered  by  a  gentlemanly  taste ;  but 
his  gray  locks  were  visible — the  furrows  which  the 
burning  share  had  not  ploughed  untimely.  His 
deep-set  gray  eyes  sparkled  with  a  certain  animation 
which  was  not  agreeable  to  look  upon.  Yes!  there  he 
stood,  the  reputed  husband  of  our  beautiful  Virginia 


76  THE    CKIMSON    STAR  J    OB, 

flower.  Medora  Palmore  (we  mourn  the  abdication  of 
her  maiden  name)  had  become  Mrs.  Kalph  Bruster — 
at  least  so  she  heard  herself  repeatedly  called,  upon 
this  bewildering  evening.  Let  not  the  reader  for- 
get it. 

The  father  of  the  bride  had  much  ado  to  swallow  a 
sob,  as  the  benediction  of  the  minister  fell  upon  his  ear; 
but  the  mother  had  not  even  the  grace  to  affect  a 
tear  and  smiled  with  hearty  approbation  as  she  em- 
braced the  young  Avife.  The  old  man  shrank  from 
the  darling  of  his  heart.  He  possessed  more  intuition 
than  the  ambitious  mother,  and,  stealing  away,  he  shut 
himself  up  in  the  library,  and  wept  as  David  wept  over 
Absalom.  The  entertainment  was  conducted  entirely 
without  his  assistance;  yet  the  guests  did  not  fail  to 
pronounce  it  charming,  splendid,  princely.  There 
seemed  to  be  everything  for  which  any  one  could  wish. 
The  land  flowed  with  milk  and  honey,  and  Edge  Hill 
seemed  converted  into  the  promised  land  of  Scripture. 
The  guests  dispersed  at  a  late  hour,  and  Mr.  Bruster 
received  many  invitations  to  various  wedding  parties 
to  be  given  in  their  honor.  The  citizens  of  the  coun- 
ty desired  to  recognize  him  as  a  gentleman  who  had 
married  in  their  midst,  although  it  was  whispered  that 
he  was  an  abolitionist.  But  he  declined  all  solicita- 
tions, saying  that  imperative  business  called  him 
immediately  to  New  York.  When  he  took  leave  of 
Mrs.  Bruster's  relations,  he  did  extend  a  kind  of 
lame  invitation  to  them  to  visit  his  wife,  but  took 
especial  care  to  appoint  no  time. 


THE   MIDNIGHT   VISION.  77 

Melancholy  was  the  parting  with  Medora.  "  Oh !  it 
will  be  so  long  before  I  see  you  again,"  she  cried  in 
anguish,  as  in  her  bridal  chamber  she  took  leave  of 
her  brides-maids.  Two  of  these  young  ladies  had  been 
her  school-mates  in  Baltimore,  and  sore  it  made  her 
heart  to  part  with  them.  But  it  was  over.  The  last 
good-night  had  been  said,  and  Medora  is  at  length 
alone ;  'tis  a  relief — alas !  no.  What  makes  her  start, 
turn  pale,  and  endeavor  to  flee  ?  'Tis  an  approaching 
sound ;  nearer  and  nearer  it  comes ;  it  reaches  the 
chamber  door.  0  God!  'tis  the  footsteps  of  the 
bridegroom.  Alas ! 

Morning  again  returned.  The  bridal  party  were  to 
go  up  the  river  as  far  as  Fredericksburg,  and  thence 
home  by  railway. 

Medora  tried  to  believe  there  would  be  no  further 
political  trouble.  Mr.  Bruster  said  there  would  not 
be  war,  when  he  knew  it  was  at  the  very  door,  like  the 
destroying  angel  who  scattered  the  blood  upon  the 
posts  of  the  door  of  the  Scythians. 

Poor  old  Mr.  Palmore  embraced  his  trembling 
child,  and  said :  "  Before  we  meet  again,  Medora,  Vir- 
ginia's soil  will  be  drenched  with  the  best  blood  of  her 
noble  sons.  My  darling,  the  parting  hour  has 
arrived,  and  your  old  father  must  give  you  up.  But 
remember,  Medora,  while  I  live,  this  is  your  home  also. 
Whatever,  whatever  occurs,  your  father  will  be  true  to 
you  ;  lie  will  continue  yours  under  all  and  any  circum- 
stances. James  Pal  more  is  your  loving  father  through 
glory  and  sunshine,  through  sorrow  and  shame." 


78  THE   CRIMSON   STAR;    OE, 

Medora  wept  convulsively,  and  hung  upon  his 
bosom,  until  the  old  man  was  obliged  to  put  her  forci- 
bly away.  A  few  tears  showed  themselves  in  her 
mother's  eyes,  but  the  wealth  of  the  son-in-law  con- 
gealed the  briny  fountain.  Like  the  famous  Miss 
Killmansegg  of  the  golden  leg,  Mrs.  Palmore  now 
beheld  everything  through  a  golden  medium.  Her 
senses  seemed  steeped  in  liquid  sunshine,  jnst  as  we 
see  the  many  every  day.  Such  avaricious  females  are 
rare  through  the  South  ;  yet,  as  there  are  always  thorns 
amid  the  most  fragrant  roses,  so  the  old  lady  was  of 
those  classes.  She  never  told  Medora  once  to  wait  for 
her  beau  in  France.  The  servants  crowded  around  to 
take  leave  of  their  young  and  idolized  mistress.  Their 
grief  was  of  the  voluble  order,  eminently  African. 
Lucinda,  in  right  of  her  late  office,  considered  it 
incumbent  upon  her  to  be  exceedingly  pathetic. 

" 0  Lord!  Miss  Medora,"  she  sobbed,  " is  you  gwine 
to  leave  us  now  for  good  ?  Oh !  de  Lord,  I  wish  to 
heaben  dat  ar  ole  vessel  had  nebber  anchored  in  dis 
harbor ;  den  Massa  Bruster  had  got  some  odder  angel 
for  his  wife,  and  you  nebber  leff  us." 

Medora  shook  hands  kindly  with  her  late  Abigail, 
and  in  her  heart  silently  echoed  the  wish  so  uncom- 
plimentary to  the  lawyer.  Medora  was  assisted  into 
the  carriage,  and  driven  away  amid  the  most  pathetic 
lamentations  of  father,  and  mother  (who  appeared  to 
begin  to  realize  that  she  had  lost  her  child  forever), 
brother,  and  domestics. 

Jasper  Palmore  had  but  little  to  say  in.  regard  to  his 


THE    MIDNIGHT    VISION.  79 

sister's  marriage,  as  he  had  been  but  a  short  time  from 
college,  and  his  mind  was  employed  in  the  political 
affairs  of  the  country ;  yet  he  dearly  loved  her  and 
wished  to  see  her  happy. 

The  groom  did  not  appear  in  the  least  affected. 
The  carriage  reached  the  shore,  a  gay  boat  awaited 
them,  and  in  a  few  moments  the  feet  of  Medora  trod 
the  deck  of  the  steamer  "Seabird,"  which,  puffing  and 
blowing,  and  a  favorable  wind,  soon  bore  her  out  of 
sight  of  her  dearly-loved  home.  She  watched  until 
the  last  point  of  well-known  Edge  Hill  faded  from 
her  view;  then  turned  aside  to  weep. 

Many  eyes  watched  the  fast-vanishing  boat  until  it 
disappeared  in  the  distance,  and,  even  after  all  traces 
had  long  vanished,  Lucinda  declared  that  she  could 
see  it. 

The  family  returned  to  the  daily  routine  of  duties ; 
but  melancholy  brooded  over  the  deserted  mansion, 
and  it  would  seem  that  a  funeral,  in  lieu  of  a  gay  wed- 
ding, had  just  taken  place. 

A  new  era  had  now  commenced  in  the  life  of  our 
heroine.  They  soon  arrived  at  the  city  of  Fredricks- 
burg,  situated  on  the  Rappahannock  river.  New 
scenes  began  to  interest  the  mind  of  Medora,  and  she 
now  experienced  the  delights  of  traveling.  Their 
reverend  companion  parted  from  them  in  the  antiqua- 
ted city,  leaving  the  newly-married  pair  alone.  They 
passed  on  from  place  to  place  until  they  arrived  in  the 
bustling  city  of  New  York.  After  a  stay  of  a  few  days 
at  the  hotel,  they  proceeded  up  the  Hudson.  Medora 


80  THE   CRIMSON   STAB;    OR, 

had  now  arrived  at  her  new  home.  All  was  elegance, 
and  nothing  had  been  forgotten  or  neglected. 

"  Why  should  I  not  be  happy  ?  "  she  asked  herself,  the 
evening  of  her  arrival.  "I  will  try  to  be  so,"  was  the 
responsive  thought.  The  mansion  of  Mr.  Bruster  was 
a  very  fine  one  and  the  locality  splendid,  but  Medora 
wondered  how  people,  could  manage  to  live  with  so  few 
servants.  Eight  was  the  number  which  she  had  left 
in  the  house  of  her  father,  and  she  felt  that  four  in 
Yankeeland  accomplished  more  than  all  she  had  left 
behind.  She  often  thought  of  her  own  rnaid  Lucinda. 

In  the  household  of  the  lawyer,  servants  had  no  time 
for  day-naps  and  lounging  around,  as  our  slaves  did 
before  the  emancipation,  when  slavery  was  thought  to 
be  such  a  bug-bear  by  some  of  our  northern  philanthro- 
pists. 

Mrs.  Bruster  had  always  been  lenient,  and  she  con- 
tinued to  treat  her  white  subjects  with  discriminate 
kindness,  so  that  she  soon  gained  their  respectful  affec- 
tion, as  many  Southern  people  do. 

Now  behold  Mrs.  Bruster  in  the  home  of  her  hus- 
band, with  everything  around  her  to  make  her  happy, 
as  far  as  money  could  accomplish  that  end !  But  true 
happiness  between  the  sexes  cannot  be  bought  with  a 
price.  The  beauties  of  nature  about  her  delighted 
our  heroine.  Imagine  the  pleasure  of  one  who  beheld 
for  the  first  time  the  glorious  Hudson.  Medora  had 
left  a  very  beautiful  and  romantic  part  of  the  country, 
but  the  scenery  which  now  she  viewed  daily  filled  her 
heart  with  a  new  pleasure.  She  was  fain  to  admit  that 


THE    MIDNIGHT   VISION.  81 

the   Hudson    far  surpassed    the    dearly-remembered 
Rappahannock. 

Yet  even  the  beauties  she  viewed  recalled  those  she 
now  saw  no  more.  To  forget  early  associations  and 
kind  friends  is  a  hard  task;  to  learn  to  live  without 
them  is  a  daily  death.  The  mind  is  a  powerful  agent, 
not  always  subject  to  our  will.  That  of  our  heroine 
delighted  in  reminiscences,  and,  against  her  better  rea- 
son, wandered  away  to  visions  of  the  romantic  hills  of 
her  native  river,  to  the  blue  rolling  waves  of  the  broad 
Chesapeake ;  and  she  even  remembered  with  pleasure 
the  cooing  dove  and  the  mournful  song  of  the  whip- 
poor-will,  and  "all  the  love-spots  that  her  infancy 
knew." 

Nothing  was  forgotten,  not  even  the  silent  grave- 
yard— God's  acre,  as  it  is  beautifully  called  by  the 
Germans — with  its  moss-covered  tombstones,  where 
she  had  seen  the  yellow  clay  thrown  up,  and  a  darling 
little  brother  let  down  into  the  cold,  cold  earth.  She 
had  watched  the  clod  heaped  upon  a  grandparent  in 
the  same  place  ;  and,  in  her  new  home,  her  heart  wan- 
dered away  to  her  living  and  her  dead.  The  more  the 
cry  of  war  sounded,  the  more  unhappy  she  was.  He 
knew  not  that  her  thoughts  dwelt  continually  upon 
her  home,  or  that  she  was  the  least  unhappy. 
Woman's  nature  is  to  conceal  her  grief.  Few  of  them 
there  are  who  have  not,  alas !  too  early 

.     .    .     .     "  Learned  the  art 
To  bleed  in  secret,  yet  conceal  the  smart." 

In  all  the  time  that  Medora  had  now  been   absent 
4* 


82  THE    CKIMSON   STAK  J    OK, 

from  home,  she  had  not  been  allowed  to  write  to  her 
parents  and  friends.  Whenever  she  spoke  of  so  doing, 
Mr.  Bruster  would  reply  that  he  had  just  written,  or 
was  just  about  to  do  so,  and  that  would  supersede  the 
necessity  of  her  doing  so.  In  a  short  time  the  rebel- 
lion did  burst  forth  like  a  burning  volcano,  shaking 
the  whole  earth  ;  for  the  first  three  or  four  battles  were 
perfectly  terrific,  and  the  loss  was  disastrous  on  both 
sides.  As  Medora  felt  that  she  had  naught  of  the  fe- 
licity of  a  bride's  new-found  happiness  with  which  to 
overcharge  her  letters,  she  did  not  object  to  possessing 
an  amanuensis  for  a  while.  Our  heroine  was  not  an 
inquisitive  woman,  and  troubled  her  husband  to  reply 
to  few  questions.  She  knew  nothing  about  his  affairs. 
This  life  was  one,  among  many,  whose  pages,  if  written 
out,  would  offer  but  little  to  please  the  reader.  Ex- 
tremely cautious  and  reserved  was  he,  both  as  to  oral 
and  epistolary  communications  ;  and  the  war  was  now 
raging,  and  the  thought  about  her  brother's  determi- 
nation to  join  the  regiment  filled  her  mind  with  sad- 
ness, as  she  knew  how  short  his  life  might  be. 

She  did  not  pretend  to  be  a  politician  ;  therefore  she 
did  not  discuss  the  war-question  much,  although  she 
thought  our  Northern  friends  a  little  too  over-officious 
in  other  people's  business.  However,  time  went  on, 
and,  little  as  Mrs.  Bruster  desired  it,  she  could  not 
choose  but  think  it  exceedingly  strange  that  she  was 
not  introduced  into  society.  She  imagined  it  was  be- 
cause she  was  a  Southerner.  Her  husband's  wealth 
and  profession  certainly  entitled  him,  she  thought,  to 


THE    MIDNIGHT    VISION.  83 

wealth  and  precedence.  She  had  just  come  from  a 
State  where  men  of  his  profession  rank  high  and  pos- 
sess great  influence. 

"  Mr.  Bruster,"  she  said,  at  last,  "  it  is  very  singular 
that  I  do  not  hear  from  home — from  my  father. 
What  think  you  is  the  cause  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  have  not  yet  written  to  them,"  carelessly 
spoke  he.  "Besides,  the  letters  would  be  intercepted." 

"What!  not  written  ?"  said  she, as  the  tears  started 
to  her  eyes.  "Not  written  to  them,  nor  mailed  the 
letter  written  by  me  last  week  ?  Why,  what  will  my 
parents  think  has  become  of  me?  " 

"I  do  not  know  that  it  is  necessary  to  trouble  your- 
self, as  you  are  properly  taken  care  of." 

Medora  was  thunderstruck.  She  could  scarcely 
raise  her  eyes  to  his  face,  and,  at  length,  woman-like, 
burst  into  tears. 

"  I  have  my  business  to  attend  to,  and  no  time  for 
mawkish  letter-writing,"  said  he,  leaving  the  room  in 
a  passion  at  the  sight  of  her  tears. 

At  that  moment  her  servant-girl  entered  the  room 
with  an  astonished  look. 

"  Ah,  it  makes  but  little  difference  now,  what  they 
think;  the  war  lias  cut  off"  all  communications.  You 
might  have  mailed  my  letter,  before  this  happened; 
because  some  weeks  have  elapsed  since  it  was  written. 
As  I  requested  you  to  mail  it,  I  thought,  sure,  it  had 
been  sent." 

"  An'  sure,  what  is  it  that's  ailin  ye  ?  " 

The  language  was  homely,  but  the  tone  so  kind  that 


84  THE    CRIMSON   STAR;    OR, 

Medora  wept  convulsively  as  she  replied  that  she  was 
only  thinking  of  friends,  and  the  beauties  and  pleas- 
ures of  her  Southern  home. 

"  Home,  is  it !  sure  enough  !  and  isn't  it  meself  that 
'ud  cry,  too,  if  crying  'ud  do  a  bit  o'  good.  An  it's 
often  that  I  be  wishing  meself  back  in  Dublin.  I  do 
be  a  stranger  in  the  land,  an'  ye  have  been  kinder  nor 
any  other,  an'  it's  all  of  us  'ud  say  the  same.  An'  don't 
take  it  as  a  liberty  when  meself  says  the  same,  an'  that 
'tis  sorry  we  are  when  we  sees  the  likes  o'  ye  in  trou- 
ble ;  an'  'tis  to  the  Holy  Virgin  I  pray  for  ye,  it  is." 

Although  our  heroine  was  entirely  unaccustomed 
to  the  Irish,  yet  she  felt  no  disposition  to  laugh  or 
make  fun  of  them. 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  prayer,  my  excellent  Mary, 
but  I  am  no  Eomanist,  and  'tis  to  God  and  to  the  Sav- 
iour I  pray." 

Here  the  approach  of  Mr.  Bruster  announced  itself. 
"Woman's  tears  sometimes  quickly  dry  themselves,  and 
thus  Medora's  disappeared — whether  from  pride  or 
principle  remains  to  be  seen.  She  managed  to  appeal- 
quite  cheerful ;  and,  leaving  her  thus,  we  will  turn  our 
imaginations  to  that  spot  in  the  "  Old  Dominion " 
where  first  we  beheld  our  heroine,  and  to  which  she 
had  sadly  uttered — 

"THE  BRIDE'S  FAREWELL. 

"  Why  do  I  weep  to  leave  the  vine 
Whose  clusters  o'er  me  bend  ? 
The  myrtle — yet,  oh,  call  it  mine — 
The  flowers  I  love  to  tend  ! 


THE   MIDNIGHT   VISION.  85 

"  A  thousand  thoughts  of  all  things  dear, 

Like  shadows  o'er  me  sweep  ! 

I  leave  my  sunny  childhood  here  ; 

Oh  1  therefore  let  me  weep." 

Medora  was  like  many  others  of  her  sex  who  have 
beeii  reared  in  ease  and  affluence.  She  did  not  dream 
that  changes  must  and  will  come.  One  so  pure,  so 
good,  that  she  imagined  all  the  world  were  the  same. 
Deluded  woman  !  When  will  reason  return  ? 


86  THE   CRIMSON   STAE  J    OR, 

CHAPTER  VI. 

THE   HOME   ON  THE  HUDSON. 

'GAIN  it  is  a  stormy  evening,  but  Medora  is  not 
with  them.     Mr.  Palmore   and  his  wife  sit 
alone  beside  the  fire.    The  former  lights  his 
pipe,  and,  after  a  few  whiffs,  speaks  "  out  of 
the  fullness  of  his  heart." 

"  Wife,  why  does  not  Medora  write  ?  Strange, 
strange,  is  it  not  ?  It  cannot  be  that  our  daughter  is  so 
much  taken  with  style  and  new  faces  that  she  has 
forgotten  her  old  parents." 

"  Style,  indeed,"  said  her  mother,  "such  things  never 
affect  those  who  have  always  been  used  to  it,  certainly 
not;  well,  if  she  did  write,  we  could  not  get  the  let- 
ters now.  Yes,  yes,  had  she  written  at  first  we  would 
have  received  them ;  but  now,  I  know,  all  communi- 
cation is  cut  off."  Interrupted  Mr.  Palmore — "  That 
is  not  the  case.  If  my  daughter  has  not  written, 
there  is  serious  cause  for  it.  She  has  not  been  brought 
up  in  obscurity — that  being  so,  she  should  not  be 
dazzled  by  her  present  surroundings.  I  make  no 
doubt  that  my  wealth  is  greater  than  that  of  Bruster's. 
Medora  carries  more  to  her  husband  than  he  is  able  to 
give  her.  I  know  I  placed  several  thousand  dollars  in 
her  hand  the  morning  she  left,  a  bride,  and  she  no 


THE    MIDNIGHT   VISION.  87 

doubt  has  given  it  to  him  long  before  this,  as  women 
never  look  very  far  in  the  future.  And  we  know  not 
what  may  happen  to  her  during  this  rebellion.  Her 
antiquated  husband,  although  exempt  from  the  battle- 
field, may  wish  to  become  notorious  in  his  shady  days, 
and  engage  in  war;  and,  poor  girl,  she  must  be  very 
lonely.  Even  had  she  gone  to  him  a  portionless  bride 
(and  I  thank  heaven  'tis  very  different),  Medora  has 
too  much  good  sense  to  be  puffed  up  by  wealth." 

"  That  is  true,"  acquiesced  Mrs.  Palmore  ;  and  then 
there  was  a  silence,  which  was,  after  a  while,  broken 
by  the  father,  who,  like  Lord  Ullin,  cried : 

"My  daughter!  oh,  my  daughter!" 

"  I  have  often  regretted,"  confessed  Mrs.  Palmore, 
"  that  I  encouraged  her  to  marry  that  New  Yorker ; 
but  he  appeared  like  such  a  fine  man  that  I  certainly 
thought  she  must  be  happy  with  him,  even  though  she 
was  much  younger — it  would  be  as  well  as  if  she  had 
married  a  more  youthful  man — the  young  so  often 
marry  and  turn  out  badly,  I  thought  a  man  so  much 
her  senior  would  prove  more  constant.  It  appears 
that  men  have  lost  their  real  devotion  to  women. 
They  have  changed  toward  the  gentler  sex.  The  most 
of  them  love  but  a  short  time  after  the  bonds  of 
matrimony  are  tied.  I  often  feel  badly  about  it." 

"  That  is  so,  wife,"  said  Mr.  Palmore,  laying  aside 
his  pipe ;  "  men  in  these  days  do  not  love  with  the 
same  vehemence  as  they  did  when  you  and  I  were 
young.  Instead  of  my  love  growing  colder*  it  has 
steadily  increased  towards  you.  Even  when  you  en- 


88  THE   CRIMSON   STAR;    OR, 

couraged  that  poor  child  to  marry  that  homely,  gray- 
headed  fellow,  I  could  love  you  none  the  less  ;  although, 
to  tell  the  truth,  I  was  angry  with  you  for  a  while  to 
sanction  anything  that  might  make  her  miserable  in 
the  end." 

"  Oh  !  never  mind,  James ;  it  will  all  come  right 
some  of  these  days." 

"I  am  sure  I  hope  so,"  said  her  husband,  with  a 
deep  sigh. 

"  Why  do  you  sigh,  dear  ?"  said  the  old  lady. 

"  Because  my  heart  is  sad,  wife,  and  I  fear  that  all 
is  not  right." 

At  this  moment  the  bell  rang  for  supper.  The 
lonely  old  couple  entered  the  next  room,  and  seated 
themselves  to  hot  coffee  and  muffins. 

"I  wonder  if  Medora  is  as  fond  of  hot  muffins  as 
she  used  to  be,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  as  he  put  the 
third  delicious  compound  upon  his  plate.  The  re- 
mark was  not  a  poetical  one,  but  it  showed  the  depth 
of  the  parent's  love.  Thereupon  followed  a  disserta- 
tion upon  the  different  manner  of  living  in  other 
countries,  which  was  broken  in  upon  by  the  sound  of 
rapping  at  the  front  door.  Lucinda,  upon  answering 
it,  received  a  letter,  which  she  immediately  took  to  her 
master,  saying,  with  her  usual  freedom,  as  she  deliv- 
ered it : 

"  I  hope  dis  is  from  Miss  Medora,  master.  I  think 
it  mus'  be,  kase  it  come  in  de  night.  All  odcr  tings 
come  so  strange,  like  her  husband — mus'  be  from  her, 
from  Medora. " 


THE    MIDNIGHT   VISION.  89 

"  I  hope  so,"  replied  her  indulgent  master,  pushing 
back  his  chair,  and  arranging  his  spectacles.  His 
hands  trembled  as  he  tore  open  the  envelope,  and  the 
old  lady  sat  in  eagerly-expectiint  silence.  As  Mr.  Pal- 
more  glanced  quickly  over  the  epistle  he  remarked : 
"Strange,  strange  that  she  does  not  herself  write. 
Ah,  I  thought  it  could  be  smuggled  through  the  lines 
somehoAV  ;  the  old  chap  is  not  so  hard  after  all.  But 
why  should  Bruster  institute  himself  her  correspond- 
ing secretary  ?  " 

"  Is  it  not  from  Medora  ?  "  anxiously  inquired  the 
old  lady. 

«  No,  it  is  not." 

"  Who,  then  ?  " 

"  Why,  after  all  I  suppose  it  may  be  said  to  be  from 
her.  Her  husband  wrote  this  letter.  Ah!  I  guess 
he  is  too  busily  engaged  in  the  war,"  said  the  planter. 

"  That  is  very  strange.  Surely  my  child  cannot  be 
ill— tell  me,  quickly!" 

"  No,"  replied  her  husband ;  "  she  is  well — if  we  may 
believe  the  contents  of  this  sheet — send.s  her  love  to 
us,  and  is  highly  delighted  with  the  North.  There  is 
some  mystery  connected  with  this,  Mrs.  Palmore.  My 
child  has  never  yet  been  undutiful  or  disrespectful 
towards  her  parents,  and  she  must  be  aware  that  our 
hearts  crave  a  letter  from  her  own  hands  ;  but  we  must 
be  contented  at  such  times  as  these.  I  only  wonder 
how  it  reached  here  after  all ;  if  she  had  written  at 
first,  we  would  have  recehred  it  long  ago." 

The  old  lady  arose,  took  the  letter,  carefully  exam- 


90  THE    CRIMSON   STAR;    OR, 

ined  it.  Not  a  trace  was  there  of  Medora's  neat 
chirography.  Silently  the  disappointed  mother  re- 
seated herself,  and  for  a  season  rocked  industriously. 
The  silence  was  broken  by  pert  Lucinda : 

"  Master,  'scuse  me,  but  didn't  Miss  Medora  wrote 
one  word  'bout  Cindy  ?  " 

"No,"  was  the  short  reply. 

"  Den  Miss  Medora  nebber  write  de  letter — dat's  a 
fac'.  "When  she  say  she  comin'  home  ?  " 

"  She  did  not  say  anything  about  it." 

"  Den  she  nebber  knowed  dat  letter  was  sent — dat's 
a  fac',"  quoth  Lucinda,  sententiously,  shaking  her 
woolly  cranium. 

"  Girl !  it  may  be  a  long,  long  time  before  you  again 
see  your  Miss  Medora,  if  ever  again  that  happiness  is 
vouchsafed  us." 

"  Don't  say  dat  ar,  master,  for  de  Lord  sake.  I  is 
most  crazy  to  see  her  now." 

"  Suppose  I  send  you  to  live  with  her,  Lucinda." 

"  Oh ! "  replied  the  girl,  with  a  toss  of  her  red  tur- 
ban, "me  like  dat  well  'nough.  But  dat  ar  ole  husband 
of  hern  might  pick  me  up  and  sell  me  to  de  traders 
down  South ;  kase  our  Joe  says  dat  de  Nordern  men  is 
de  woss  masters  under  de  sun.  I  don't  know  much, 
but  I  don't  want  to  go ;  and  I  does  know  dat  Miss 
Medora  nebber  write  dat  letter,  kase  she  nebber  say 
one  word  'bout  Cindy." 

"You  cannot  be  sold  now,  Lucinda;  the  North  are 
fighting  to  free  you." 

"Ah!  is  dat  so?" 
2* 


THE    MIDNIGHT   VISION.  91 

"  Yes ;  did  you  not  know  it  ?  " 

This  to  Lucinda  was  more  positive  than  that  in  said 
epistle ;  there  were  few  allusions  either  to  the  father 
or  mother  of  Mrs.  Bruster.  Scarcely  a  word  passed 
between  the  old  couple  during  the  evening.  An  addi- 
tional cloud  seemed  to  have  come  over  their  hearts. 
About  bed-time  Jasper  entered. 

"  My  son,  we  have  heard  from  your  sister." 

"  Eejoiced  to  hear  it,"  said  the  young  man,  throw- 
ing himself  upon  a  sofa,  and  passing  his  fingers 
through  his  redundant  locks.  "The  young  ladies, 
Meredith  and  Carter,  have  worried  me  to  death  with 
their  queries,  and  philippics  upon  false  friendship, 
short-lived  affection,  etc.,  etc.  I  am  relieved  that  our 
bride  has  at  length  found  time  to  write.  What's  the 
news  ?  " 

"Not  much.  The  letter  was  from  Mr.  Bruster, 
and  very  unlike  Medora." 

"Mighty  queer,  to  say  the  least.  Has  the  polar 
climate  up  there  completely  frozen  up  the  heart  of 
ma  belle  soe/tr.  What  a  devoted  wife,  truly !  permit- 
ting that  dotard  to  write  her  letter.  What  can  the 
old  gray-bearded  man  know  about  the  'loves 'and 
'(loves'  of  a  woman's  letter?  What  does  he  knoAV  about 
the  last  new  bonnet,  and  the  latest  pattern  for  lace 
pocket-handkerchiefs?  What  an  exceedingly  uninter- 
esting epistle  it  must  be,  eh?  The  first  time  I  saw  that 
man,  I  thought  that  he  had  accidentally  dropped  from 
the  Xorth  Pole,  and  was  afraid  to  touch  him  lest  I'd 
freeze  my  digits.  So  you  suppose  that  he  has  trans- 


92  THE    CRIMSON   STAR;    OR, 

lated  his  beautiful  bride  into  an  iceberg,  thus  to  adapt 
her  to  his  case  and  climate,  eh  ?  " 

"He  was  always  a  radical,"  said  his  father.  "He 
only  knew  how  to  use  his  blarney  and  guess,  and  so 
he  has  finally  guessed  right  this  time ;  for  he  remarked, 
the  first  time  I  saw  him,  that  war  was  being  opened, 
and,  if  so,  it  would  be  critical  for  the  South." 

"Well,"  said  Jasper,  "all  that  I  can  give  is  my  life; 
but  that  shall  go  freely.  I  shall  be  in  the  next  battle. 
I  should  not  be  at  home  now  but  for  business  which 
called  me  away." 

"My  son,  my  son!  I  feel  sure  something  is  wrong 
with  Medora.  She  must  be  either  ill  or  unhappy  that 
she  does  not  write.  A  hundred  icebergs  could  not 
change  her  warm  heart  and  gentle,  loving 
nature." 

"Ah!  well,"  sighed  the  old  father,  "let  us  to  bed. 
Time,  the  great  inspector,  will  eventually  make  all 
things  clear — that's  one  comfort."  And  yet  he  sighed 
again,  drearily,  as  though  his  heart  was  almost  too 
full. 

Plenty  and  comfort  filled  the  mansion  at  Edge  Hill. 
The  winter  was  pleasant ;  neighbors,  kind  and  socia- 
ble; had  it  not  been  for  anxiety  in  regard  to  their 
absent  one,  our  friends  would  have  considered  them- 
selves among  the  happy  few. 

Let  us  turn  our  eye  towards  the  grand  Hudson. 
The  winter  is  cold  and  dreary.  Mr.  Bruster  is  but  little 
at  home ;  business  claims  all  his  attention  now;  he 
has  not  a  moment  of  time  to  give  to  the  pretty  girl 


THE    MIDNIGHT   VISION.  93 

who  had  once  so  much  power  over  him.  In  a  few 
months  her  beautiful  eyes  had  grown  dim  to  him;  her 
tall  and  majestic  figure  attracts  no  more;  her  gentle 
and  winning  smile  is  lost  upon  him;  her  amiable 
disposition  is  not  appreciated.  All  her  merits  sink 
into  nothingness  with  one  whose  heart  is  crimsoned 
with  deeper  crimes  than  his  gentle  wife  could  ever 
imagine,  in  her  wildest  dreams;  he  is  one  of  the 
strongest  abolitionists,  and  often  taunts  her  with  the 
institution  of  slavery. 

But  Mrs.  Bruster  endures  his  sneers  and  his  neglect 
with  all  the  patience  imaginable.  Irish  Mary,  and 
Thomas  the  coachman,  were  about  all  the  persons 
whom  she  now  saw.  These  domestics  were  mutually 
lovers,  and  Mary  had  induced  Thomas  to  believe  that 
her  mistress  was  really  an  angel.  They  were  indeed 
devoted  to  Mrs.  Bruster.  We  should  always  endeavor 
to  gain  the  good  will  of  such  persons,  for  even  a  servant 
may  be  enabled  to  do  us,  at  some  time,  either  much 
good  or  much  evil. 

The  reader  will  see,  before  the  close  of  our  story, 
that  Thomas  and  his  lassie  were  of  some  service  to  the 
lady  in  whose  employment  they  were.  The  war  was 
now  raging;  there  had  been  a  great  battle  at  Bull 
Run  and  several  other  places.  Oh!  what  gloom  now 
pervades  her  mind.  Nearly  a  year  had  elapsed,  when, 
one  day,  as  Mrs.  Bruster  was  fixing  a  coat  for  her  hus- 
band, she  felt  something  away  down  in  the  lining, 
rolled  up.  She  thought  it  might  be  a  valuable  green- 
back ;  and,  having  needed  money  many  times  when  he 


94  THE    CRIMSON    STAR;    OR, 

would  not  give  it  to  her,  but  would  tell  her  she  was  a 
lazy,  extravagant  little  vixen,  she  thought  she  now 
had  a  prize,  and  did  not  intend  to  give  it  to  him,  if  it 
should  prove  to  be  money.  So  she  finally,  after  taking 
two  or  three  stitches,  caught  at  the  roll  of  paper. 

Woman's  curiosity  prevailed,  and  the  billet  was  read. 
To  the  overwhelming  astonishment  of  the  reader,  it 
was  signed,  "your  wife."  Everything  swam  before 
the  eyes  of  her  who  had  thought  herself,  if  not  a 
beloved,  at  least  a  respected  wife. 

This  letter  had  been  written  the  previous  summer, 
while  Madame  Bruster  was  in  her  obscure  abode; 
when  the  husband  had  told  Medora  his  wife  had  been 
dead  years,  and  he  had  no  child. 

The  poor  heart-stricken  woman  saw  at  once  her 
condition — that  she  was  like  all  other  women.  -She 
knew  not  why  he  deceived  her ;  and  when  she  found 
she  was  the  dupe  of  a  villain,  she  shrieked. 

"Oh,  my  God!  my  God!"  she  gasped,  and,  with 
the  fatal  letter  in  her  fingers,  fell  insensible  to  the 
floor. 

Mary  came  rushing  in,  and  caught  up  the  lifeless 
form,  and  placed  it  upon  the  bed.  After  a  prolonged 
syncope,  she  showed  signs  of  returning  life.  A  glass 
of  wine  enabled  her  to  sit  up.  Ah!  how  changed  she 
was ;  how  rigid  had  become  the  mobile  features ;  how 
marble-white  the  fair  skin. 

She  wrung  her  hands  together,  as  from  her  purple 
lips  there  issued  these  words : 

"0  God!  is  he  married?"     Then,  suddenly  turn- 


THE    MIDNIGHT    VISION.  95 

ing  upon  the  girl,  she  exclaimed:  "  Mary,  lias  Mr. 
Bruster  another  wife?" 

The  servant  looked  as  though  she  would  like  to 
speak,  but  dared  not.  Medora  again  exclaimed: 

"Mary,  has  Mr.  Bruster  another  wife!  Tell  me, 

Mary ;  is  he  married — if  my  hus if — if  Mr.  Bruster 

has  already  a  wife?" 

"  You  ask  me  too  much,  mam,"  said  Mary.  "  We 
poor  hired  girls  must  shut  our  mouths  and  eyes  to  the 
faults  of  our  employers." 

"  Well,  this  letter  purports  to  be  from  Mrs.  Maria 
Bruster,  who  calls  herself  his  wife,  and  reproaches  him 

for  living  with  a with  one  who  is  not  so.  Oh ! 

oh!  Mary,  I  shall  die." 

When  the  lawyer  was  at  home,  she  heard  nothing 
but  bitter  epithets  against  the  South,  which  had  been 
her  home;  and  the  reader  must  suppose  that  still 
augmented  her  grief. 

At  this  moment,  for  the  first  time,  she  was  led  to 
believe.  "Oh!  that  I  had  never  discarded  Eugene; 
oh  !  that  I  had  waited  his  arrival ;  but,  'tis  done,  and 
I  am  lost." 

"It  is  yourself,"  said  Mary,  "who  is  young  and 
beautiful;  and  a  pity  it  is  that  you  are  not  the  real 
wife  ov  the  gintleman." 

Medora  seemed  about  to  faint  again,  but,  by  a 
violent  effort  she  controlled  herself,  and  besought 
Mary  to  reveal  all  she  knew, promising  that  she  should 
be  brought  into  no  trouble  thereby. 

"  Well,  my  lady,"  said  the  girl,  "  I  have  been  here 


96  THE    CRIMSON  STAR,    OR, 

about  two  years,  and  lived  with  Mrs.  Bruster  till  a  few 
months  before  you  come.  One  day,  Mrs.  Bruster  went 
away  with  her  little  son  Robert.  After  she  had  been 
gone  some  weeks,  Mr.  Bruster  also  went  away.  When 
he  returned,  he  informed  us  that  his  wife  was  dead, 
and  that  the  little  boy  had  been  left  with  his 
grandmother ;  an'  he  looked  so  serious,  and  sober-like, 
that  we  thought  it  was  all  true.  His  wife  had  been 
very  severe  with  us ;  we  could  not  do  enough  work  for 
her;  she  gave  us  but  little  to  eat.  An'  whin  you 
came,  me  lady,  you  were  so  different,  that  Thomas, 
meself,  and  the  other  servants  remarked  it ;  an'  now, 
share,  we  have  become  so  much  attached  to  ye;  an'  I 
am  shure,  me  lady,  if  we  have  any  access  to  the  Var- 
gin,  we  will  besach  her  to  protect  ye,  who  has  been 
so  kind  to  us  servants." 

Medora  gazed  intently  at  the  girl  while  she  was 
speaking.  The  more  earnest  Mary  became,  the  stronger 
was  her  brogue.  A  long  silence  ensued,  during  which 
Mrs.  Bruster  appeared  buried  in  thought.  At  length 
she  spoke : 

"  Go  now,  Mary,  to  your  work.  I  feel  much  better. 
Do  not  open  your  lips  to  any  one  concerning  what 
has  occurred.  Time  will  unfold  many  dark  deeds, 
and  justice  will  overtake  the  wicked  ;  but  the  righteous 
shall  never  perish,  nor  their  seed  go  begging  bread. 
A  vague  idea  flitted  across  her  mind  in  regard  to 
the  young  man  who  she  supposed  was  then  in  Paris ; 
how  queer  it  was,  in  her  lost  condition  she  should 
dream  of  him! 


THE   MIDNIGHT   VISION.  97 

When  Mary  bad  left  the  room,  Medora  refolded  and 
replaced  the  fatal  letter.  That  night  Mr.  Bruster 
returned.  He  said  to  Medora  that  he  would  now  be 
less  than  ever  at  home — that  his  business  in  New  York 
was  so  urgent  as  to  require  the  whole  of  his  attention, 
adding : 

"I  have  received  a  letter  from  your  father.  They 
desire  to  have  your  portrait.  You  can  sit  if  you 
choose.  I  will  send  up  an  artist.  In  consequence  of 
the  war  it  will  be  a  long  time  before  you  can  visit 
them." 

"An  artist  engaged! "she  whispered;  "what  do  I 
want  my  portrait  taken  for,  now  that  I  am  so  thin  and 
corpse-like?  I  am  sure  my  parents  would  not  recog- 
nize me.  May  I  not  see  my  father's  letter  ?  I  should 
like  to,"  cried  Medora,  with  a  manner  a  charming 
mixture  of  eagerness  and  timidity. 

"No,  I  do  not  choose  to  have  my  correspondence 
examined  by  everybody." 

"  Am  I  not  your  wife -?  and  you  say  you  have  re- 
ceived a  letter  from  my  father,  and  you  will  not  permit 
me  to  see  my  own  papa's  letters  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  he,  in  a  bitter  and  sarcastic  tone.  "  You 
what?  my  wife!  Ha!  ha!  well,  the  war  will  soon 
be  over ;  then  you  can  go  and  stay  at  home  altogether. 
Yes,  yes,"  laughed  he. 

"Well,  then,  I  will  write  to  them  myself,"  said 
Medora,  in  a  sad  but  firm  tone. 

"I  forbid  it,"  said  he,  sternly.  "  I  wish  you  to  have 
no  intermeddling  of  relations.  Should  you  write, 


98  THE    CRIMSON    STAB;    OE, 

then  soon  you  would  wish  to  visit,  and,  the  first  thing 
I  should  know,  there  would  be  some  intrigue  on  the 
tapis. 

"Dare  you  doubt  my  honor  ?"  cried  Medora  indig- 
nantly. "  I  was  brought  up  to  value  virtue  as  sacred  as 
life." 

"  No,  not  as  yet ;  but  you  are  so  unlike  the  rest  of 
your  sex.  If  you  saw  a  handsome  young  fellow,  you 
would  soon  forget  your  husband." 

"I  am  incapable  of  deception,"  said  our  heroine, 
while  the  blood  crimsoned  her  cheeks,  and  a  deathly 
paleness  followed. 

'•'  Well,"  sneered  he,  "  the  safest  way  is  to  give  you 
no  opportunity;  and  so,  good-bye  for  two  or  three 
days." 

"Ah!  politics,  politics,"  whispered  Medora. 

The  reader  can  imagine  the  feelings  of  the  wife, 
who  had  just  discovered  that  she  was  the  dupe  of  a 
villain.  Yet  sometimes  caution  is  necessary.  The 
wretched  girl  threw  herself  upon  her  bed,  and,  in 
anguish  that  cannot  be  described,  passed  a  sleepless 
night,  her  trouble  now  being  too  acute  for  her  mind 
to  dwell  on  anything  but  one. 

Oh !  reader,  what  an  awful  hour  is  that  when  the 
villainy  of  him  with  whom  you  have  stood  up  before 
the  altar  is  forced  upon  the  mind  of  a  young,  confid- 
ing, virtuous  woman.  The  horrors  of  the  lost  in  the 
dark  spheres  can  be  no  worse,  in  our  opinion.  The 
heart  that  trusts,  and  is  deceived,  is  a  broken  pitcher 
at  the  cistern,  indeed.  There  are  thousands  of  inno- 


THE    MIDNIGHT   VISION.  ,99 

cent  women  who  can  and  will  sympathize  with  the 
heroine  of  our  story.  She  is  alone  in  an  immense 
mansion,  is  not  permitted  to  pen  a  line  to  her  parents, 
has  no  society  but  the  Irish  servants ;  yet  she  was  as 
quiet  as  possible.  "Vengeance  is  mine,  saith  the 
Lord,  and  I  will  repay." 

Medora  Palmore  had  been  taught  to  read  the  Bible, 
although  she  had  been  raised  in  a  slave  State,  and  bora 
of  Southern  parents — or  what  the  consequence  might 
have  been  of  what  was  now  revealed  to  her,  we  are  not 
prepared  to  say.  She  had  been  one  of  the  belles  of  her 
State,  courted  and  beloved  by  all  who  knew  her. 

In  a  few  days  Mr.  Bruster  returned,  accompanied 
by  a  gentleman  whom  he  introduced  as  the  artist  he 
had  formerly  mentioned,  and  who  was  a  tall,  dark, 
distinguished-looking  man.  As  Mrs.  Bruster  gazed 
upon  the  new-comer,  she  felt  strangely.  What  on 
earth  could  have  induced  her  husband  to  bring  so  at- 
tractive a  man  into  the  house?  she  mentally  asked 
herself;  for  she  knew  his  suspicious,  jealous  dis- 
position. 

She  was  introduced  to  Monsieur  Delancy,  and  told 
to  prepare  herself  for  a  sitting.  She  turned  deathly 
pale,  the  artist  too  acted  very  queerly,  staggered  and 
caught  hold  of  a  chair,  made  some  remark  about  the 
tedious  ride.  Madame  Bruster  called  a  servant  and 
ordered  wine,  seeing  the  stranger  looked  fatigued.  He 
gladly  accepted  the  invitation  to  drink,  in  which  all 
joined. 

Then  the  artist  declared  that  he  would   be,  on  the 


100  THE    CRIMSON    STAR  '    OR, 

following  day,  sufficiently  rested,  after  his  journey,  to 
commence  at  once ;  but  must  go  to  New  York  for  a 
day  or  two.  Medora  was  soon  in  readiness,  after  his 
return,  for  her  first  sitting.  In  due  time  the  picture 
of  the  beautiful  woman  was  completed.  Many  were 
the  hours  they  passed  alone,  although,  as  much  as  pos- 
sible, Mr.  Bruster  remained  in  the  room. 

Medora  knew  not  what  she  thought  of  the  painter. 
Her  mind  seemed  to  be  in  chaos.  Unaccustomed 
even  to  think  for  herself,  she  felt  as  one  driven  help- 
lessly along  by  a  strong  current. 

And  what  thought  the  painter  of  Medora  ?  Un- 
controllable looks  and  inadvertent  hints  assured  her  of 
his  admiration. 

What  a  dangerous  position  was  this  beautiful  woman 
now  in!  A  handsome,  intellectual,  fascinating  man 
thrown  continually  and  alone  into  the  society  of  a  wo- 
man whom  he  admired  more  than  any  lady  he  had 
ever  seen. 

But  Medora  was  married.  True,  she  had  seen  a 
letter  from  a  woman  claiming  the  prior  right  of  wife 
to  the  very  man  whose  name  she  bore.  But  she  had 
ceased  to  believe  in  that  letter.  After  due  consid- 
eration, she  felt  herself  compelled  to  pronounce  it 
false.  She  had  also  ceased  to  believe  in  the  honor  of 
Mr.  Bruster,  thinking  that  he  had  deceived  the  poor 
" Maria;"  that  it  was  "Maria"  who  was  deceived, 
and  she  herself  the  honored  wife:  the  noble  girl  of 
Virginia  could  not  believe  she  was  the  disgraced 
one.  But  who  was  this  handsome  Frenchman  ?  Why 


THE    MIDNIGHT   VISION.  101 

was  he  sent  to  her  by  her  own  husband,  as  she  had 
brought  her  mind  to  believe  that  she  was  the  lawful 
wife,  and  Maria  the  counterfeit  ?  Yet  we  say  that  she 
hud  ceased  to  have  any  faith  in  the  legal  adviser  as  a 
man  of  honor,  but  she  did  not  now  suspect  him  of  vil- 
lainy towards  herself.  She  thought  it  impossible  that 
he  would  have  dared  to  contrive  and  carry  out  such  a 
tissue  of  deceit  in  regard  to  her,  who  was  highly 
connected,  and  had  so  many  influential  friends  at 
home. 

Wretched  as  she  undoubtedly  was,  she  could  no 
longer  loathe  herself  as  a  dupe,  and,  however  innocent, 
really,  in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  utterly  ruined.  A  ray 
of  sunshine  had  entered  her  darkness.  Her  heart  had 
become  more  buoyant.  Light  again  entered  her  lan- 
guid eyes.  She  did  not  dare  to  analyze  her  feelings, 
but  she  was  conscious  that  all  the  fresh  emotions  of 
her  youth  had  come  again.  The  blue  sky  seemed  as  of 
the  sweetest  sapphire ;  the  green  fields  and  the  waving 
trees  were  of  emerald  brightness;  the  grassy  plains, 
the  leafy  trees,  the  brilliant  flowers,  were  as  they 
ever  had  been.  She  knew  that  the  sunny  atmosphere 
possessed  more  of  loveliness  or  power  of  imparting 
delights  than  of  old,  and  she  knew  that  the  change, 
the  sensation  of  ecstasy,  was  in  her  own  heart.  She 
felt,  to  the  core  of  that  heart,  that  she  was  happier, 
and  she  dared  not  ask  wherefore.  Alas!  poor  Medora. 
So  gentle,  so  pure  within  herself,  that  all  creation  was 
beautiful;  yet  her  mind  wandered  back  to  the  home 
of  her  childhood,  and  could  but  wish  to  be  at  Edge 


102  THE    CRIMSON    STAR;    OR, 

Hill,  even  though  the  bayonet  glittered,  and  the  roar- 
ing of  the  cannon  might  sound  in  her  ears. 

She  did  not  know  why,  but  Eugene,  the  French  stu- 
dent, seemingly  occupied  her  mind  more  than  any- 
thing else.  The  war  was  now  drawing  to  a  close;  the 
surrender  of  General  Lee  soon  followed.  A  few  months 
longer  and  all  was  over,  and  no  other  State  suffered  as 
much  as  the  "  Old  Dominion." 


THE    MIDXIGHT    VISION.  103 

CHAPTEK  VII. 

THE    TWO     PORTRAITS. 

HEN  the  artist  was  about  to  take  leave,  Mrs. 
Bruster  invited  him  to  call  upon  her  occa- 
sionally. 

"I  am  so  lonely  here,"  she  said,  with  a  sad  smile. 
"Have  you  not  a  mother,  or  a  sister,  whom  you  can 
bring  to  see  me  ?  " 

"I  have  neither  mother  nor  sister,"  replied  the 
Frenchman.  "  When  one  sees  ladies  like  madame,  one 
cannot  but  choose  for  a  wife." 

The  courtesy  of  manner  took  away  what  might  ap- 
pear rather  a  broad  compliment.  "  However,"  as  Medora 
said  to  herself,  "  one  would  not  be  French  unless  one 
flattered."  But  the  keen-eyed  Gaul  noticed  the  blush 
that  his  words  had  brought  to  the  cheeks  of  his  fair 
hostess,  and  was  satisfied. 

Monsieur  1' Artiste  took  his  departure,  and  with  him 
bore  away  the  duplicate  of  the  portrait  which  he  had 
been  ordered  to  paint.  He  imagined  this  all  unknown 
to  any  one  but  himself;  but  Mary,  the  Argus-eyed,  had 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  love-robbery,  on  the  easel,  in 
his  room.  The  original  portrait  was  sent  home  to  Me- 
dora's  parents.  Her  husband,  being  a  shrewd  man, 
by  strategy  sent  it  through  the  lines. 


104  THE   CRIMSON   STAR  ;   OK, 

Weeks  ran  again  into  a  month  or  two,  and  beheld 
the  lawyer  yet  overwhelmed  with  business  cares. 

No  longer  was  Medora  his  "little  Virginia  girl,"  his 
"  beautiful  fairy  queen."  Alas !  she  was  now  a  for- 
saken woman,  who  daily  wept  over  her  condition,  but 
there  came  no  relief.  At  length,  the  Winter  closed, 
with  its  dreary  gloom,  and  Spring,  revivifying  Spring 
returned  again. 

"SPRING   VOICES. 

"  Sweet  Spring  returns,  and  the  Winter  is  o'er ; 
The  birds  sing  as  sweet  as  in  days  of  yore ; 
The  bunting  flies  from  its  wint'ry  nook, 
And  glides  by  the  side  of  the  silvery  brook ; 

"  As  if  to  catch  some  wild  wood  noteg 
From  the  forest  song  in  the  air  that  floats ; 
It  flutters  and  chirps,  for  its  heart  is  gay, — 
For  it  knows  the  Winter  has  passed  away. 

"  The  snowy  mantle  we  see  no  more 
Spread  on  the  forest,  the  vale,  and  shore  ; 
The  voices  of  Spring  to  the  glad  earth  call 
Through  forests  dense,  over  cliff-tops  tall ; 

"  And  gentle  violets,  from  grassy  beds, 
Modestly  raise  their  innocent  heads, — 
Timidly  shrinking  upon  the  plain, 
As  fearing  the  love  their  beauties  gain  1 

"  These  are  the  voices  we  oft-times  hear 
Thrilling  with  music  the  ether  clear  ! 
Gurgling  rivulets,  clattering  brooks, 
Meeting  each  other  in  leafy  nooks. 


THE   MIDNIGHT   VISION.  105 

"  Flowers  spring  from  their  earthy  beds, 
Kissing  the  dewdrop  with  tiny  heads  ; 
Each  little  cup  perfumes  the  air, 
And  blossoms  are  springing  in  gardens  fair  ! 

"  Let  those  now  love  who  never  loved  before  ; 
Let  those  who  always  loved  now  love  the  more ; 
The  Spring,  the  joyful  Spring  appears, 
The  happiest  season  of  revolving  years." 

Flowers,  birds,  trees,  the  rapid  river,  each  again  re- 
newed their  youth,  and  Medora  alone  seemed  miserable 
— she  is  alone. 

The  lawyer  soon  wearied  of  his  darling.  He  could 
have  said,  as  Lord  Byron  pronounced  of  one:  "Thou 
art  none  the  less  charming,  but  I  am  fond  of  change." 

Fond  of  change!  Just  such  characters  we  meet 
every  day.  Bruster  was  one.  The  woman  whose  eyes 
had  held  him  spell-bound  now  became  a  wearisome 
burden.  Oh,  man!  wherefore  so  fickle?  An  angel 
in  the  place  of  Medora  Palmore  would  have  received 
just  such  treatment.  A  libertine  has  no  compunction 
of  conscience.  Rich  and  poor,  high  and  low,  he  places 
upon  the  same  platform.  With  such  a  one,  birth,  tal- 
ent, rank,  have  no  influence;  and  such  a  one  was 
Ralph  Bruster,  as,  perhaps,  the  reader  has  already  per- 
ceived. 

The  portrait,  as  before  mentioned,  had  been  sent 
home  to  the  parents  of  the  fair  original.  The  reader 
may,  perhaps,  imagine  that  the  picture  was  a  source  of 
infinite  comfort;  so,  in  some  respects,  it  was — yet  they 
s:t\v  u  sad  change.  Medora  always  wore  a  smile  upon 


106  THE   CRIMSON   STAB  J    OR, 

her  face  ;  but  now  there  was  a  sadness,  which  the  old 
folks  could  not  account  for. 

It  was  accompanied  by  a  letter  from  our  hero.  The 
parents  hung  with  delight  over  the  representation  of 
their  beautiful  child. 

"Where  shall  it  be  hung?"  inquired  Mrs.  Palmore 
of  her  husband. 

"  In  our  chamber,  by  all  means,"  replied  the  old 
man.  "  There  it  will  greet  mine  eyes  the  first  thing 
in  the  morning,  and  look  upon  me  the  last  at  night, 
just  as  she  once  did ;  and  I  shall  almost  imagine  she 
is  here,  poor  child.  Only  she  looks  too  grave,"  he  re- 
marked ;  "  she  thinks  of  the  war." 

How  the  picture  was  admired,  caressed,  and  praised! 
and  every  voice  pronounced  it  so  natural,  and  the  un- 
known limner  of  the  highest  merit. 

"  A  proficient — a  proficient,  undeniably  !  "  said  the 
gratified  father. 

All  the  household  seemed  to  gaze  upon  the  newly- 
arrived  treasure,  and  even  the  neighbors  came  in  to 
look  at  the  "  counterfeit"  of  her  who  had  been  so  es- 
teemed and  loved  by  them  all. 

After  the  father  and  mother,  Lucinda  esteemed  her- 
self as  possessing  the  best  right  to  the  picture.  If 
gazing  could  have  dulled  its  bright  coloring,  it  would 
soon  have  faded.  Oh !  can  aught  be  more  tender 
than  the  love  of  a  parent  for  a  child  ? 

Mr.  Palmore  wrote  a  letter  of  thanks  to  Bruster 
(which  was  never  seen  by  Medora),  dilating  upon  their 
rapture  on  receiving  these  mementoes  of  love ;  and 


THE   MIDNIGHT   VISION.  107 

then,  for  a  long  while,  nothing  more  was  exchanged 
between  them.  To  all  of  Medora's  inquiries  Mr. 
Brnster  turned  a  deaf  ear.  When  she  spoke  of  writ- 
ing, he  would  remark  that  letters  would  not  go  now 
anyway.  This  was  his  excuse.  The  driver  was  ordered 
to  say  that  the  horses  were  not  in  condition  when  she 
wished  to  drive.  He  tried  every  way  imaginable  to 
punish  her. 

Her  life  was  in  darkness,  indeed.  Pale,  thin,  and 
wan,  she  wandered  from  room  to  room,  calling  up 
visions  of  Edge  Hill  and  its  environs.  "  Oh !  that  I 
were  once  more  beneath  my  father's  roof.  What  to  me 
is  wealth,  now  that  I  am  forsaken  ?  What  have  I  done 
to  deserve  such  treatment  ?  Father,  in  heaven,  pity 
me !  "  she  would  exclaim,  wringing  her  delicate  hands. 

For  hours  she  would  sit  in  silent  meditation.  One 
morning  she  wandered  out  for  a  walk,  and,  after  pro- 
ceeding some  distance,  seated  herself  in  an  arbor, 
which  looked  out  upon  the  river,  there  repeating  these 
verses : 

"I    ASK   NOT  FOR  WEALTH. 

"  I  ask  not  for  wealth,  for  soon  it  is  gone — 

Like  the  rainbow  it  passes  away. 
But  give  me  the  heart  that  to  mine  doth  respond, 

For  such  love  will  never  decay. 

"  I  ask  not  for  fame,  which  flies  like  a  shadow, 
As  a  hubble  that  floats  on  the  stream  ; 

Like  a  zephyr  that  blows  gently  in  the  morn, 
And  passes  away  as  a  dream. 


108  THE    CRIMSON   STAR;    OR, 

"  I  ask  but  one  boon — God  grant  it  to  me— 

To  meet  those  in  Heaven  I  love. 
From  sorrow  and  pain  we  shall  ever  be  free, 

And  sing  with  the  angels  above. 

There,  wrapped  in  sad  reverie,  she  was  roused  by  a 
rapid  footstep.  Looking  up,  she  beheld  Mr.  Delancy, 
the  artist.  Oh,  Medora,  if  you  only  knew  this 
man. 

"Am  I  intruding,  madame?"  he  saidj  gently;  and 
with  his  peculiar  grace  of  manner,  extended  his  hand. 

"A  friend  never  intrudes,"  replied  the  lady,  as  she 
touched  the  proffered  hand,  "and  I  am  surfeited  with 
solitude,  and  quite  agree  with  one  of  your  compatri- 
ots, who  opined  that,  though  solitude  was  sweet,  'tis 
pleasant  to  have  some  one  to  whisper  to" — then 
blushed  at  Her  own  remark. 

But,  as  only  French  courtesy  can,  he  guided  the 
conversation,  until  Medora  was  charmed  into  forget- 
fulness  of  her  unhappy  fate.  Mr.  Delancy  offered  her 
his  arm. 

"How  strangely  I  feel,"  whispered  Medora. 

They  had  made  but  little  progress  when  they  were 
met  by  Mary,  who  came  to  inquire  if  Mrs.  Bruster 
wished  to  drive. 

"If  I  can  take  the  horses,"  replied  our  heroine,  sur- 
prised at  the  liberty  accorded  her. 

"Thomas  says  they  need  exercise,  madame." 

"  Well,  then,  Mr.  Delancy,  if  you  are  so  disposed,  I 
will  show  you  some  of  our  beautiful  views." 

"  It  will  afford  me  too  much  pleasure,  madame ;  for 


TUB   MIDNIGHT    VISION.  109 

we  hear  but  little  these  days  but  war  news,  which  is 
very  uninteresting  to  a  Frenchman." 

"  And  to  me  also,"  said  Medora ;  "  and,  as  I  am 
Southern  born  and  educated,  my  principles  are  antag- 
onistic to  the  present  political  strife.  You  French 
have  fought  us  more  than  once,"  said  Medora,  affecting 
a  smile. 

"  None  of  my  family,  I  assure  you,  madame,  have 
fought  against  this  country." 

Seeing  the  artist  was  not  so  inattentive  toward  the 
South,  she  gave  him  an  indefinite  invitation  to  ride. 

Medora  always  felt  so  strangely  in  the  presence  of 
the  artist,  although  he  showed  extreme  attention  when- 
ever he  saw  her. 

She  dreamed  of  no  harm  arising  from  the  invita- 
tion, which  he  quite  as  innocently  accepted.  Having 
been  invited  many  times  to  his  house  by  Mr.  Bruster, 
he  saw  no  reason  for  declining  a  morning  drive  with 
the  lady  of  that  gentleman. 

Thus  were  some  hours  very  pleasantly  spent.  It 
was  a  long  time  since  Medora  had  enjoyed  a  drive, 
and  never  had  she  met  with  a  more  interesting  com- 
panion. She  began  to  feel  more  like  Medora  Palmore, 
and  ahnost  forgot  that  she  had  exchanged  that  name 
for  Bruster.  Once  she  remarked,  with  a  pang,  that 
she  had  reason  to  doubt  her  legal  right  to  that  name. 
But,  oh !  impossible.  It  could  not  be.  What!  she, 
the  innocent  Medora,  lost  to  friends,  lost  to  society, 
lost  to  reputation  ?  It  could  not  be.  She  put  the  idea 
away.  Surely,  it  was  more  than  she  could  endure. 


110  THE    CRIMSON    STAR  J    OR, 

She  was  his  wife,  and  Maria  the  dishonored  one.  But 
she  had  a  most  enjoyable  drive.  "When  she  returned 
to  the  house,  unfortunately,  the  lawyer  was  at  home. 
When  the  carriage  drove  up  to  the  door,  the  lawyer 
stood  very  near,  but  he  did  not  offer  to  assist  her  to 
alight.  His  countenance  denoted  anger,  but  Medora 
never  dreamed  that  one  so  weary  of  her  could  be 
troubled  with  jealousy.  She  Avas  satisfied  that  Mr. 
Bruster  no  longer  loved  her,  and,  without  love,  it  is 
said  jealousy  cannot  exist. 

However,  the  lawyer  invited  the  artist  in  and 
treated  him  with  polite  hospitality.  Mrs.  Bruster  felt 
and  was  looking  unusually  well.  For  weeks  she  had 
scarcely  beheld  a  human  face,  with  the  exception  of 
the  servants.  After  a  short  stay,  Mr.  Delancy  took  his 
leave,  and  Medora  was  surprised  to  hear  the  lawyer 
invite  him  to  come  again — for  she  saw  he  was  angered. 

"When  they  were  alone,  then  the  cloud  dropped 
rain — a  rain  of  words,  with  which  we  will  not  pol- 
lute, these  pages.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  Medora  heard 
herself  called  a  name  that  must  fill  with  indignation 
every  innocent  heart,  and  open  anew  the  wounds  of 
the  guilty. 

"Oh,  oh!"  she  exclaimed,  "that  dream,  that  horrid 
dream.  That  crimson  star  and  that  bloody  hand  up- 
lifted !  Is  this  the  reward  that  I  am  to  receive  for  leaving 
my  Southern  home,  my  father's  house,  and  my  dear 
friends,  to  cling  to  a  husband  who,  I  thought,  loved  me 
dearer  than  aught  on  earth,  and  who  promised  before 
(rod  to  love  and  cherish  me  so  long  as  we  both  do  live  ?  " 


THE    MIDNIGHT   VISION.  Ill 

"A  Imsbandf"  he  repealed,  smiling  ironically,  "A 
husband  forsooth!  I  have  been  the  husband  of  many 
a  simple  girl  like  yourself.  If  you  are  one  of  the  F. 
F.  V.'s,  you  have  been  the  dupe  of  a  Yankee  lawyer 
this  time ;  and  when  I  first  met  you,  there*  and  on 
that  very  trip,  then  I  was  bound  for  Fredericksburg,  it 
was  to  reconnoiter  your  harbors  and  gain  all  the  infor- 
mation in  regard  to  your  strength." 

Medora's  innocent  brain  refused  to  comprehend  his 
meaning.  She  really  did  not  define  his  words;  but  sat 
weeping  silently,  while  he  heaped  abuse  upon  her. 
When  he  had  exhausted  himself  he  left  her  alone,  and 
the  day  passed  with  her  as  many  another  had  flown. 
Nature,  in  all  the  lavish  beauty  of  May,  could  not 
awake  a  natural  feeling  in  the  bosom  of  our  heroine. 
Her  soul,  like  that  of  Job,  was  stricken  down  by 
trouble  ;  the  vivacity  of  her  nature  was  overshadowed 
by  sorrow — she  seemed  a  wreck.  But  she  was  not 
entirely  without  hope.  Thank  God  for  hope  !  When 
hope  is  gone,  then  woman  is  lost.  She  hoped  that  she 
would  at  some  future  time  again  behold  Edge  Hill — 
that  her  foot  might  again  press  the  soil  of  Virginia, 
and  that  at  last  she  might  be  laid  beneath  the  earth 
of  that  State  which  covered  the  remains  of  the  immor- 
tal Washington,  and  many  other  great  warriors. 
Medora,  feeling  her  entire  innocence,  believed  that 
God  would  avenge  her  wrongs.  Could  every  one 
have  such  faith,  how  much  better  would  it  be !  Cool 
and  calm,  she  bore -with  resignation  her  misery. 

The  night  after  having  met  the  artist  at  his  house, 


112  THE    CRIMSON    STAR;    OR, 

Mr.  Bruster  astonished  lier  by  making  his  appear- 
ance. Weeks  had  passed  since  he  had  thus  honored 
her,  and,  little  as  she  could  esteem  him,  she  could  not 
choose  but  be  glad  of  some  human  presence. 

After  supper  had  been  served,  and  he  had  fondled 
his  pet  .Newfoundland,  he  wandered  uneasily  about  the 
room,  seemingly  in  an  unhappy  state.  Medora,  deem- 
ing it  her  duty,  endeavored  to  make  herself  agree- 
able, but  to  little  purpose. 

"  Mr.  Bruster,  I  should  be  glad  to  see  you  at  home 
more  frequently.  This  house  has  appeared  like  a 
dungeon  since  you  have  deprived  it  of  your  pres- 
ence." 

He  glanced  keenly  at  her,  to  observe  if  she  spoke  iii 
irony.  Perceiving  that  it  was  all  in  good  faith,  he 
merely  turned  his  back  upon  her,  ejaculating  an  em- 
phatic "humph  !  "  The  lonely  evening  was  at  length 
over,  and  this  happy  and  congenial  couple  retired. 
Medora  quietly  wept  herself  to  sleep,  but  not  before  she 
had  made  up  her  mind  to  escape  to  Edge  Hill,  even  at 
the  point  of  the  bayonet,  at  the  very  first  opportunity 
that  offered  for  flight.  Just  before  daylight  she  was 
awakened  by  the  gleam  of  a  light  in  the  room.  What 
was  her  terrified  astonishment  in  beholding  Bruster 
standing  at  her  head,  in  one  hand  a  lighted  lamp,  in 
the  other  a  loaded  pistol ! 

"  Now,  madame,  prepare  to  die  !  you  are  faithless," 
cried  the  inhuman  fiend. 

Arising  upon  her  knees  in  bed,  she  screamed  aloud, 
and  protested  her  innocence. 


THE    MIDNIGHT   VISION.  113 

"No,"  said  he,  with  the  most  deliberate  coolness 
and  cruelty,  "you  are  not  ray  wife  ;  my  wife  still  lives. 
She  never  deceived  me,  although  I  banished  her  from 
my  presence." 

"0  God!"  she  cried,  in  tones  of  the  wildest 
anguish  ;  "is  this  my  lost  condition?  Is  this  the  man 
that  wooed  and  won  Medora  Palmore  ?  Can  it  be  pos- 
sible that  I  am  betrayed  and  murdered  ?  Oh,  that 
crimson  star ! " 

He  grasped  her  arm,  and  endeavored  to  drag  her 
from  the  bed  by  her  beautiful  hair. 

"  If  you  care  not  for  me,  oh !  at  least,  have  mercy 
upon  your  unborn  child,  the  innocent  victim  of  a  de- 
ceived mother. " 

He  heeded  not  her  petition,  and  was  about  to  fire, 
when  Mary  rushed  into  the  room  and  dashed  the  pis- 
tol from  his  hand,  which  exploded  as  it  fell  to  the  floor. 

"  Holy  Vargin  !  an'  will  ye  murther  yer  own  wife  ? 
The  saints  protict  and  save  her." 

"I  was  jesting,"  said  he,  coolly ;  "only  testing  her 
courage.  What  does  she  mean,"  said  he,  "  by  that 
crimson  star  and  bloody  hand  ?  " 

Medora  fell  back  in  a  deadly  swoon.  Mary  stood  by 
to  receive  her  last  breath,  for  she  assuredly  thought 
the  poor  lady  about  to  die.  Bathing  her  pallid  tem- 
ples, she  continued  to  murmur  pious  ejaculations. 

Ralph  Bruster,  snatching  up  the  exploded  weapon, 
left  the  room.  Ringing  the  bell  violently,  he  ordered 
Thomas  to  prepare  his  horse,  and  before  Medora  had 
recovered  from  her  swoon  he  was  off  and  away. 


114  THE    CRIMSON    STAR;    OR, 

When  that  unfortunate  girl  again  opened  her  eyes, 
she  beheld  the  faithful  domestic  leaning  over  her. 

"  Has  he  shot  me  ?  "  said  Medora. 

"  No,  me  lady ;  I  was  in  time  to  save  yer  precious 
life,  praised  be  the  saints.  He  would  have  murdered 
ye  in  an  instant." 

"  Yes,  in  a  moment  more  I  should  have  been  welter- 
ing in  my  own  blood.  Thank  God,  and  you,  Mary, 
my  life  is  preserved.  Oh,  my  dear  parents !  were  you 
aware  of  my  sufferings,  it  would  kill  you." 

Her  utterance  failed  from  excess  of  emotion,  and 
Mary  begged  her  to  compose  herself.  The  excellent 
girl  brought  some  hot  coffee,  which  Medora  persuaded 
herself  to  partake  of,  and  in  the  course  of  two  hours 
was  enabled  to  rise  and  make  her  toilet. 

Eestless  and  wretched,  she  could  not  remain  in  a 
quiescent  state.  Snatching  up  her  mantle,  she  wan- 
dered away  to  her  favorite  bower.  The  sun  was  just 
peeping  from  behind  the  hills.  As  she  sat,  idly  watch- 
ing the  swift  current  of  the  Hudson,  and  wondering 
if  there  was  peace  to  be  found  beneath  those  onward 
waters,  she  heard  the  crushing  of  leaves,  and  the  next 
moment  the  figure  of  a  man  presented  itself.  As  she 
recognized  his  person  she  almost  fainted  again,  for  it 
was  Delancy. 

"  Madame,"  he  said,  hurriedly,  but  with  his  ever- 
gentle,  high-bred  manner,  "excuse,  pardon  this  intru- 
sion; but  a  horrid  circumstance — information  that  I 
have  received,  brought  me  hither.  A  plot,  a  secret 
plot  is  in  machination.  Your  life  is  in  jeopardy." 


THE    MIDNIGHT  VISION.  115 

"What — what  is  it?"  exclaimed  the  terrified  wo- 
man. She  knew  there  was" a  battle  just  fought  in  Vir- 
ginia, and  thought,  perhaps,  her  brother  was  killed ; 
and  by  chance  he  had  come  to  inform  her  of  his  death. 

"  You  are  to  be  murdered ! "  answered  the  excited 
Delancy,  "  and,  unhappy  me,  I  have  been  the  cause. 
You  are  first — then  I  am — to  die.  Your  husband  is  a 
tyrant.  God  help  you,  madame.  You  shall  be 
saved." 

"  How  do  you  know  this  ?  "  asked  Medora,  almost 
paralyzed  with  horror,  and  also  wondering  why  this 
stranger  should  take  such  an  interest  in  one  whom  he 
had  met  in  a  business  way. 

u  By  accident,  madame ;  by  accident  I  have  come 
into  possession  of  this  knowledge." 

"  Tell  me  what  you  have  heard,"  said  Medora,  faint- 
ly, ready  also  to  distrust  Delancy ;  for  a  woman,  once 
deceived,  is  apt  to  look  upon  all  with  suspicion.  "Tell 
me,  tell  me  quickly !  "  gasped  the  lady,  pale  and  trem- 
bling. 

"  I  came  hither  to  tell  you,"  replied  the  artist.  "  As 
I  was  wandering  on  the  shore,  I  heard  near  me  a  low 
talking.  I  paused  to  discover  whom  it  might  be.  It 
proved  to  be  Mr.  Bruster  and  your  domestic,  Tom. 
Thev  were  concealed  in  a  ravine,  and  conversed  in 
guarded  tunes.  I  heard  these  words:  'Be  in  ivadi- 
iirs.s,  Thomas,  with  the  yacht;  and  have  all  prepared 
as  I  have  ordered.  If  we  can  manage  it,  it  will  be  a 
consummation  most  devoutly  to  be  wished;  moreover, 
variety  is  the  spice  of  death  as  well  as  life.  One  thou- 


116  THE   CRIMSON   STAR;    OR, 

sand  dollars  are  yours,  Thomas,  my  boy,  as  soon  as  that 

d d  artist  and  his  paramour  are  dead.'  Thomas 

consented  to  all,  and  then  they  parted." 

"Oh,  gracious  heavens!"  cried  Medora,  clasping 
her  hands  and  raising  her  beautiful  eyes  to  heaven. 
She  apostrophized,  "  He  is  determined  to  kill  me,  and 
I  am  innocent." 

"  Yes,  cliere  madame,"  exclaimed  Delaucy,  taking 
her  hand  impulsively  within  his  own;  "you  are  inno- 
cent, and  you  shall  be  saved.  Do  all  that  he  requests. 
'Keep  a  good  look  out,'  as  you  say  in  VAmerique,  and 
leave  the  rest  to  me.  I  hastened  to  inform  you  of  your 
situation,  and  put  you  on  your  guard.  God  will  pro- 
tect the  innocent  and  the  helpless.  Despond  not; 
cherish  Temperance ;  trust  in  h  bon  Dieu,  and  in  me, 
this  humble  servant.  Fai'ewell,  until  we  meet  again ;" 
and  he  pressed  the  hand  still  within  his  own.  She  re- 
leased it,  for  the  strange  electrical  feeling  that  ran 
through  her  body  was  an  enigma.  He  hastily  re- 
tired. 

Medora  made  the  best  of  her  way  back  into  the 
house.  Reader,  pause,  and  regard  her  situation.  Just 
having  escaped  murder  the  night  previous,  and  now 

threatened  again  by  the  father  of oh!  horror  of 

horrors. 

The  hours  dragged  slowly  by.  to  the  wretched  wo- 
man, but  at  last  night  came  again;  and,  to  her  aston- 
ishment, brought  Mr.  Bruster  home  in  one  of  his  most 
agreeable  moods.  He  endeavored  to  be  most  amiable, 
even  attempting  to  caress  and  pet  her.  In  the  course 


THE    MIDNIGHT   VISION.  117 

of  conversation,  he  alluded  frequently  to  Mr.  Delancy, 
asserting  that  he  was  an  acquaintance  of  years'  stand- 
ing, and  one  of  the  finest  of  men — which  was  a  base 
falsehood. 

Mrs.  Bruster  was  astonished.  She  thought  within 
herself:  "Either  one  or  the  other,  or  perhaps  both,  of 
these  men,  are  about  to  play  the  villain.  Alas,  per- 
haps both  are  in  league  against  me — whom  can  I 
trust  ?  " 

She  felt  that  her  reputation  had  gone,  but  her  life 
even  become  dearer.  She  wished  to  live  to  atone  for 
her  thoughtlessness. 

While  they  were  engaged  in  taking  tea,  Mr.  Bruster 
proposed  a  sailing  party  for  the  next  evening,  which, 
he  said,  if  clear,  would  be  full  moonlight,  and  that  he 
would  invite  a  few  friends.  Medora  consented.  She 
hud  for  months  been  living  an  almost  intolerable  life  ; 
prohibited  writing  to  her  friends,  and  entirely  desti- 
tute of  society,  she  had  heard  from  Bruster  that  her 
brother  was  a  colonel  in  the  Rebel  army  and  never  ex- 
pected to  see  him  again,  thinking  at  the  time  his  regi- 
ment was  engaged  in  battle. 

But  the  most  victorious  on  earth  have  ever  been 
those  who  have  gone  through  the  fire  of  adversity  and 
trouble.  She  often  whispered  prayers  for  the  safety  of 
her  only  brother's  welfare  on  the  bloody  field  of  battle. 

The  next  day  Thomas  was  engag'ed  in  preparing  the 
yacht,  and  by  evening  all  was  in  elegant  readiness. 

"  What  a  beautiful  evening  we  shall  have,"  said  Brus- 
ter to  Medora. 


118  THE    CRIMSON    STAB;    OR, 

"  Yes  ;  the  sky  is  clear  and  serene,  and  just  sufficient 
wind  to  be  agreeable." 

"  Thomas ! v  cried  the  lawyer,  "  are  all  the  refresh- 
ments on  board  ?  Don't  forget  the  wine-cooler,  and 
send  down  the  baskets  of  fruit,  etc.,  etc." 

"We  are  happy,"  said  the  lawyer,  "  since  we  hear  no 
whistling  bullet  nor  rifle  shot. " 

"  Yes,"  whispered  Medora,  with  a  sigh. 

"  Aye,  aye,  sir,"  answered  Thomas,  who  for  a  small 
portion  of  his  life  had  followed  the  sea,  and  who  now 
appeared  to  be  up  to  his  eyes  in  never-ending  business. 

"But  you  are  not  surely  going  until  the  guests 
arrive!"  cried  Medora,  as  Mr.  Bruster  offered  his 
arm  to  conduct  her  to  the  boat,  and  whose  heart  trem- 
bled with  apprehension  as  to  the  non-appearance  of 
the  artist ;  and  vague  alarm  filled  her  breast. 

"If  they  have  the  bad  taste  to  forget  an  appoint- 
ment, I  shall  not  be  so  silly  as  to  neglect  this  moon- 
light. It  must  have  been  just  such  a  moon  that 
looked  down  upon  '  Lorenzo  and  Jessica.' "  And  then 
the  eccentric  man  commenced  to  recite,  and  to  recite 
in  such  a  tone  and  manner,  that  the  intellectual 
Medora  almost  forgot  her  uncertain  fate,  and  repeated 
the  part  of  Jessica  with  spirit. 

LORENZO.    "  The  moon  shines  bright.     In  such  a  night  as  this, 
When  the  sweet  wind  did  gently  kiss  the  trees, 
And  they  did  make  no  noise — in  such  a  night 
Troilus,  methinks,  mounted  the  Trojan  walls, 
And  sighed  his  soul  toward  the  Grecian  tents, 
Where  Cressida  lay  that  night. 


THE    MIDNIGHT   VISION.  119 

JESSICA.  "  In  such  a  night 

Did  Tbisbe  fearfully  o'ertrip  the  dew  ; 
And  saw  the  lion's  shadow  o'er  himself, 
And  ran  dismay'd  away. 

LOK.  "  In  such  a  night 

Stood  Dido,  with  a  willow  in  her  hand, 
Upon  the  wild  sea-banks,  and  wav'd  her  love 
To  come  again  to  Carthage. 

JES.  "  In  such  a  night 

Medea  gather'd  the  enchanted  herbs 
That  did  renew  old  .ZEson. 

LOR.  "  In  such  a  night 

Did  Jessica  steal  from  the  wealthy  Jew  ; 

And,  with  an  unthrift  love,  did  run  from  Venice 

As  far  as  Belmont. 

JES.  "  And  in  such  a  night 

Did  young  Lorenzo  swear  he  lov'd  her  well 
Stealing  her  soul  with  many  vows  of  faith, 
And  ne'er  a  true  one. 

LOR.  "  And  in  such  a  night 

Did  pretty  Jessica,  like  a  little  shrew, 
Slander  her  love,  and  he  forgave  it  her. 

JES.  I  would  out-night  you  did  nobody  come — 

But,  hark  1 1  hear  the  footing  of  a  man. 


120  THE   CRIMSON   STAB  J   OB, 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

HER   VISION   FULFILLED. 


HE  footsteps  proved  to  be  those  of  the  artist, 
who  apologized  for  his  late  appearance,  say- 
ing he  was  detained  to  finish  a  picture. 

"  Ah  !  well,"  replied  the  lawyer,  "we  are  all  ready 
now." 

Medora's  heart  trembled  within.  She  thought  there 
might  be  truth  in  what  the  artist  had  asserted. 

They  embarked,  and,  after  they  were  seated,  Medora 
remarked  that  they  were  to  have  had  company. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  old  man,  "  but  I  guess  they  will  not 
come,  as  it  is  rather  late.  Hoist  the  sails,  Thomas ; 
we  are  losing  the  beauty  of  the  evening." 

"  Yes,  beautiful,"  thought  Medora.  "  Perhaps  this  is 
the  last  moonlight  I  shall  ever  see." 

The  orders  were  obeyed,  and  swiftly  they  glided  down 
the  Hudson. 

"  How  do  you  like  these  moonlight  excursions  ?  " 
said  Bruster  to  Delancy. 

"  Very  much,  when  we  have  pleasant  society,  and 
something  nice  to  drink,"  replied  the  artist,  in  a  very 
matter-of-fact  manner. 

"Yes,"  said  the  old  man,  looking  a  little  sideways 


THE    MIDNIGHT   VISION.  121 

at  Delancy ;  "  we  have  some  very  fine  wine  on  board — 
would  you  like  to  indulge  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  artist,  "after  a  while;  not  just 
now." 

The  poor  woman  began  to  tremble;  she  thought  of 
what  she  had  been  told. 

"  Oh!  mercy,"  she  whispered  to  herself,  "will  he  car- 
ry this  wicked  plot  intoeifect  ?  surely  he  is  not  a  fiend, 
and  only  a  devil  could  commit  murder.  Alas ! "  she 
whispered,  "  it  may  be  true." 

There  are  none  on  board,  beside  those  we  have 
already  mentioned,  excepting  a  mere  lad,  who  had 
been  as  a  servant  in  the  family  but  a  few  weeks.  The 
undaunted  spirit  of  woman  came  to  her  relief  after  a 
few  moments'  meditation ;  and  she  thought  over  all 
she  had  heard,  and  determined  to  save  her  own  life  if 
possible.  As  Bruster  passed  his  lady,  he  said  to  her. 

"  How  beautiful  is  the  scenery  of  the  Hudson  ?  Nyack 
is  such  a  splendid  town,"  he  said;  "I  always  liked  an 
elevated  village." 

"Yes,"  replied  Medora;  "there  could  be  nothing 
more  sublime  than  some  parts  of  this  river.  Those  high 
peaks  of  the  Moose  which  the  Overlook  is  situated  on, 
and  the  Highlands  and  Palisades,  are  more  beautiful 
thim  any  other  spot  on  the  river,  except  the  village  of 
Catskill ;  and  some  of  the  places  upon  the  hills  are 
magnificent." 

"Fine  place  to  drown  one,"  said  the  artist.  He 
then  paused,  finishing  his  sentence — "pretty  deep 
water;  and  a  fine  moonlight  night." 


122  THE    CRIMSON    STAK  J    OB, 

Yet  the  lawyer  never  dreamed  his  plot  was  sus- 
pected. 

"  Ha!  ha!"  laughed  the  old  man,  as  though  highly 
delighted  with  his  clandestine  measures. 

"  Drowning  would  be  more  preferable  in  these  times. 
If  I  were  to  die  suddenly,  I  would  rather  be  drowned 
than  shot,"  making  some  sarcastic  allusion  to  the  late 
battle  which  had  been  fought. 

After  they  had  sailed  quite  a  distance,  the  artist  was 
invited  into  the  cabin  to  take  a  glass  of  wine.  The 
three  entered,  and  the  glasses  were  filled.  They  no- 
ticed that  he  poured  his  from  a  different  bottle,  but, 
however,  they  closely  watched  his  management.  The 
cake  was  handed,  and  each  one  ate  a  slice.  Medora  held 
her  glass,  untasted,  in  her  hand.  The  artist  appeared 
to  drink  his,  but  deftly  managed  to  pour  it  upon  the 
floor  by  his  side.  The  lawyer  did  not  notice  the  trick, 
and  felt  sure  that  the  wine  would  soon  have  the  de- 
sired effect.  Perceiving  that  Medora  did  not  intend 
to  drink  hers,  he  tossed  off  his,  and  laughingly  said  that 
she  would  never  become  intemperate.  "  You  Southern 
women  are  a  little  too  particular.  I  like  to  see  a  lady 
social,"  he  remarked,  with  levity. 

"  I  never  did  like  wine,"  said  she. 

"  Put  it  down,  then,  and  let  us  take  a  promenade 
on  deck." 

Medora  obeyed  his  request,  and  arose  to  go  ;  but  the 
keen  eye  of  the  artist  .watched  every  movement  of  the 
Yankee,  knowing  that  he  was  very  shrewd  in  all  things. 
But  the  French  are  very  discriminating. 


THE    MIDNIGHT    VISION.  123 

After  ascending  the  deck,  Bruster  walked  gentle- 
manly up  to  Medora,  pressed  her  arm  into  his,  and 
very  leisurely  promenaded  up  and  down  the  boat,  as  if 
he  were  seriously  meditating  some  particular  subject. 
But  few  words  passed  between  them.  He  made  some 
remarks  upon  the  beauty  of  a  moonlight  excursion, 
and  our  heroine,  feeling  very  sad  at  the  time,  merely 
sanctioned  what  he  said. 

After  a  few  paces  up  and  down,  suddenly  the 
lawyer  stopped ;  and,  at  the  same  instant,  a  plank, 
which  was  fixed  at  the  yacht  like  a  table-leaf  when 
hoisted,  attracted  her  attention.  She  thought,  if  one 
should  step  upon  it,  it  was  dangerous,  it  being  so 
slender  that  it  must  break,  and  a  person  upon  it  would 
evidently  fall  into  the  river.  Our  heroine  carefully  no- 
ticed the  maneuvers  of  the  man  who  was  by  her  side ; 
she  remembered  his  former  conduct ;  her  ruin  flashed 
upon  her  memory  more  vividly  than  ever.  She  thought 
of  all  the  cruelty  with  which  she  had  been  treated,  and 
of  the  evening  when  he  attempted  to  murder  her  in 
her  own  chamber,  in  the  silent  hour  of  the  night.  All 
his  villainy  came  rushing  more  forcibly  upon  her  youth- 
ful mind.  She  gazed  intently  into  his  dark,  flashing 
eyes,  and  but  one  thought  seemed  to  be  rooted  in  her 
penetrating  gaze.  She  trembled  like  an  aspen  leaf  in 
the  quivering  bive/e,  as  they  slowly  walked  up  and 
down  the  deck.  As  they  passed  and  repassed  the  trap- 
like  door,  her  blood  almost  ran  cold  in  her  veins.  She 
fancied  she  could  hear  the  pistol,  shot,  or  even  feel  the 
cold  waves  of  the  Hudson  rolling  over  her.  She  \\  as 


124  THB   CRIMSON   STAB;    OR, 

as  pale  as  a  lifeless  corpse ;  her  pulse  flew,  her  heart 
palpitated,  her  brain  reeled. 

Yet  woman's  courage  did  not  entirely  leave  her, 
even  at  that  critical  nfoment.  No,  no !  It  came 
with  all  power,  and  she  felt  determined  within  her 
mind  that,  if  he  attempted  to  carry  out  his  noto- 
rious plot,  she  would  save  herself  if  it  were  pos- 
sible. 

In  an  instant  more,  as  these  thoughts  were  revolv- 
ing in  her  mind,  they  passed  again  the  slender  plank 
on  the  edge  of  the  boat;  and,  with  a  tiger's  grip,  he 
caught  her  by  the  arm,  and  was  about  to  send  her 
headlong,  reeling  on  the  brink  of  the  plank  which  had 
been  fixed  for  her  destruction  ;  but,  just  as  they  neared 
the  trap,  there  came  a  back  flaw  in  the  wind,  which 
blew  the  main-sail  over,  and  the  boom  came  whirling 
by  Medora's  head  like  a  shot.  She,  with  the  intuition 
of  a  woman,  when  danger  is  near,  tears  herself  from 
his  grasp  with  a  sudden  jerk,  bends  her  form,  and 
shuns  the  boom,  which  struck  him,  and  whirled  him 
over  the  side  of  the  yacht.  In  the  twinkling  of  an  eye 
he  went  splashing  and  dashing  into  the  foaming  wa- 
ters of  the  broad  Hudson.  In  another  moment  he  was 
grappling  at  the  rail,  trying  to  rescue  himself  from  a 
watery  grave ;  but,  by  so  doing,  he  struck  his  hand 
against  a  sharp  spike,  which  projected  from  the  side 
of  the  yacht,  that  glided  swiftly  over  the  water;  his 
strength  gave  way,  and  he  raised  his  hand,  crying 
aloud: 

"0    God!     I  am  lost!   lost!  lost!    Save,  oh!  save 


THE   MIDNIGHT   VISION.  125 

me !  For  God's  sake,  save  me !  save  me  I  Oh,  my  poor 
wife — my  incarcerated  wife!  " 

Medora  did  not  understand  what  he  meant  by  say- 
ing, "  My  poor  wife ! "  She  thought,  of  course,  site  was 
the  wife  he  referred  to  in  his  last  moments.  She  saw 
the  death  struggle.  At  that  instant,  the  vision  in 
her  dream  came  vividly  to  her  mind — a  shooting  star, 
which  appeared  like  a  ball  of  fire,  as  it  passed  before 
her;  then  was  presented  to  her  eyes,  as  he  threw 
up  his  arms,  the  "  bloody  hand  "  which  she  had  seen 
in  her  dream  at  the  midnight  hour. 

"My  poor,  incarcerated  wife,"  he  cried.  0  God! 
forgive  my  sins."  The  last  words  died  upon  his  lips  : 
"  my  wife ;  oh  !  my " 

While  Medora  stood  apparently  paralyzed,  as  pale  as 
a  £host,  wringing  her  hands  in  agony,  and  screaming 
at  the  top  of  her  voice,  gazing  at  the  awful  scene  before 
her,  she  shouted  for  the  artist  to  save  him.  In  an  instant 
more  the  Frenchman  was  by  her  side,  to  try  and  rescue 
the  drowning  man,  followed  by  Tom,  who  was  just  in 
time  to  see  the  old  man  sinking  for  the  last  time. 

"  Oil,  heavens!"  she  uttered;  "is  this  the  Southern 
Star  ?  No,  it  is  one  of  crimson  hues  ;  which,  like  a  blaz- 
ing comet,  has  destroyed  him."  She  then  repeated,  in 
her  agony,  these  verses,  scarcely  knowing  what  she  said 

"  MY  HUSBAND'S  GRAVE. 
"  Beneath  the  hroad  expanding  waters, 
The  lawyer  lies  in  tranquil  sleep ; 
He  heedeth  not  the  surging  waters, 
As  they  proudly  o'er  him  leap. 


126  THE  CRIMSON  STAR;  OR, 

"  The  sea-grass  is  Ms  winding-sheet, 

And  the  coral-bed  his  pillow  ; 
There,  there  lieth  his  body  quietly, 
Till  God  shall  roll  away  the  billow. 

"  No  tombstone  hath  he  to  show  his  name, 

No  green  sod  near  his  grave  ; 

But  the  sweeping  billows  of  the  sea 

O'er  the  lost  one's  body  wave." 

Tom,  with  consternation  and  remorse  depicted  in 
his  countenance,  nervously  inquired  of  Medora  how 
Mr.  Bruster  fell  over,  on  seeing  the  trap  which  was 
fixed  for  her  destruction  had  not  been  the  cause  of 
his  misfortune. 

"Why,"  said  she,  "the  boom  came  rushing  by  us 
like  a  whirlwind,  and  struck  him,  and  threw  him  over ; 
and  I,  too,  liked  to  have  perished,  only  that  I  saA%  it 
coming,  and,  shunning  the  blow,  saved  myself." 

Then  he  gravely  remarked :  "  What  a  sad  fate  !  " 

The  artist  stood  gazing  on  the  terror-stricken  scene 
before  him.  "  Great  God ! "  murmured  Delancy,  as  he 
meditated  on  the  last  sight  of  the  dying  man,  as  his 
gray  hair  floated  on  the  snow-capped  billows,  and  sank 
forever  from  the  gaze  of  human  eyes.  Soon,  ah !  soon 
all  hope  has  fled.  Medora  stood  upon  the  deck  watch- 
ing the  blue  waters  which  had  so  recently  swept  over 
the  form  of  her  deceiver,  and  felt  as  Dido  did,  when 
she  stood  upon  the  wild  sea-banks,  on  the  shore  of 
Carthage,  with  a  branch  of  willow  in  her  hand,  and 
waved  her  lover  to  come  again  to  her. 

Our  heroine  saw  her  false  lover  as  he  rose,  and  sank 


THE   MIDNIGHT   VISION.  127 

forever  from  her  gaze  beneath  the  surging  waves,  by 
moonlight.  All  creation  seemed  silenced  at  the  mid- 
night tragedy !  Not  a  sound  could  be  heard,  save  the 
foaming  waters,  which  tossed  their  white  caps  in  the 
silvery  moonlight.  The  beautiful  Hudson,  which  she 
had  so  often  admired,  now,  to  her,  like  the  bitter 
waters  of  Marah ;  the  trickling  gore,  as  it  dropped 
from  the  lawyer's  hand,  seemingly  changed  the  river 
to  blood. 

Pale  and  trembling  stood  the  Southern  girl  on  the 
deck,  gazing  wildly  on  the  scene  before  her.  Almost 
in  a  death-like  agony,  she  whispered: 

"  He  has  gone  "—gasping  for  breath — «  but  he  made 
his  own  tomb,  and  sleepeth  beneath  the  sepulcher  of 
the  foaming  deep." 

The  pale  moon  shone  brightly,  and  the  twinkling 
stars  seemed  to  send  forth,  from  their  different  mag- 
nitudes, a  more  profuse  light  upon  the  globe.  Medora 
thought  of  that  crimson  star  which  she  had  seen  in 
her  dream,  and  that  bloody  hand  which  warned  her 
of  her  fate.  The  zephyrs  blew  gently,  and  all  nature 
,vas  tranquil,  nay,  even  sublime,  on  that  fatal  night. 
Yet  it  was  a  sad  evening.  The  blue  waters  of  the 
Hudson  never  looked  m.ore  beautiful  than  on  that 
night — that  night,  that  long-to-be-remembered  night. 
That  fatal  moonlight  excursion  was  to  be  remembered 
by  Mrdora  Palmore  as  long  as  life  last. 

The  waters  of  the  Tappan  Bay  seemed  to  sound 
mournful  ;  the  depths  of  the  mighty  deep  seemed  to 
send  forth  its  groans  in  sympathy  for  her  who  stood 


128  THE   CRIMSON   STAR:    OR, 

watching  all  its  emotions,  at  a  late  hour,  by  moon- 
light. 

All  that  was  beautiful  in  nature  had  changed  in  a 
short  time,  in  the  mind  of  Medora,  and  she  was  mel- 
ancholy. She  viewed  by  moonlight  the  grandeur  and 
loveliness  of  the  scenery  of  the  Hudson  ;  but,  reader ! 
imagine  her  feelings.  Delancy  stood  almost  motion- 
less by  her  side — each  one  truly  sad.  The  artist  was 
then  tempted — tempted.  Tempted  to  do  what?  to  reveal 
a  secret  which  he  had  so  long  kept.  "  But  not  just  yet," 
he  whispered ;  such  a  strife  it  was  for  him  to  keep  it 
from  her. 

The  yacht  was  just  nearing  the  shore,  and  the 
nearer  it  approached  the  more  melancholy  our  heroine 
felt.  Yet  she  nerved  herself  to  endure  all  that  might 
befall  her  through  life.  Eelief  seemed  to  come  to  her 
aching  heart,  for  she  knew  too  well  that  the  man  who 
had  taken  her  happiness  had  brought  his  own  misery 
and  destruction  upon  himself.  She  could  not  blame 
herself  but  for  one  thing — that  was  marrying  a  man 
so  much  her  senior,  and  coming  so  far  from  her  dear 
father  and  mother,  and  all  the  loved  ones  that  her 
infancy  knew.  The  lines  of  the  poet  were  made 
more  vivid  in  her  mind  than  ever.  The  happy  days  of 
her  childhood,  and  Edge  Hill  with  all  its  beauties, 
came  rushing  upon  her,  as  she  slowly  paced  the 
boat  up  and  down,  wishing  every  moment  that  she 
was  on  shore  and  in  her  own  chamber,  where  she 
might  be  at  least  a  little  quiet,  although  she  never 
imagined  that  peace  of  mind  could  ever  be  enjoyed- 


THE   MIDNIGHT   VISION.  129 

There  was  not  a  bright  spot  on  earth  for  her — her 
mind  never  was  absolved  from  the  fatal  tragedy. 

The  glass  of  wine  left  by  Medora  had  been  poured 
by  the  artist  into  a  bottle,  who  saved  it  in  order  to 
test  if  it  really  were  poisoned. 

"Come,  Mrs.  Bruster,"  said  he. 

"Do  not  call  me  by  that  name,"  said  she,  with  an 
involuntary  shudder.  "Call  me  Palmore,  if  you 
please. " 

"Mrs.  Palmore,  then,"  he  said;  "come,  go  with  me, 
and  let  us  satisfy  ourselves  whether  or  not  there  was 
poison  in  the  wine." 

They  hastened  from  the  Southern  Star,  and  soon 
reached  an  apothecary's  shop,  and  handed  the  wine  to 
the  druggist  to  analyze. 

He  told  them  that  there  was  prussic  acid  in  the 
glass — enough  to  kill  a  person  in  five  minutes. 

"When  did  you  sell  such  a  narcotic?"  asked  the 
"  artist. 

"  This  morning,"  he  answered. 

"  To  whom  did  you  sell  the  poison  ?  " 

"  To  Lawyer  Bruster,  who  is  one  of  our  neigh- 
bors." 

"  You  did  ?  "  said  the  artist. 

"  Yes." 

"  He  is  the  one  who  attempted  to  administer  the 
dose,  but  was  knocked  over  the  side  of  the  boat  by  a 
ilaw  of  wind,  on  a  sailing  excursion,  and  was  this  eve- 
ning drowned." 

"Good!"    said  the  druggist;    "he  was    an    old 
G* 


130  THE    CRIMSON   STAR;    OR, 

scoundrel.  He  treated  his  wife  badly,  and  then  stole 
a  young  girl  from  Virginia;  and  I  did  hear  that  he 
attempted  to  shoot  her  one  night,  very  recently.  He 
deceived  her  in  marrying.  The  minister  he  carried 
down  with  him  was  as  black-hearted  a  villain  as  was 
Bruster.  There  is  a  sweet  pair  of  them  gone." 

"  Is  he  also  dead  ?  "  asked  the  artist. 

"  Yes ;  and  on  his  dying  bed  he  confessed  the  crime, 
owning  how  he  had  been  engaged  in  that  affair,  and 
said  that  the  beautiful  girl  stood  before  him,  with 
an  infant  in  her  arms,  reproaching  him  for  her  ruin. 
He  also  imagined  her  parents  were  around  him  in  his 
last  moments.  His  horse  ran  away,  and  he  was  thrown 
from  his  carriage  and  broke  his  leg,  and  from  the 
inflammation  he  died.'' 

"Ah,  well,"  said  the  artist,  "it  is  all  over  now;  hei£ 
drowned." 

Little  did  the  druggist  think  that  the  lady  who 
stood  there  was  the  betrayed  and  injured  woman 
abducted  from  her  friends. 

They  left  the  store,  and  Medora  hurried  home.  The 
artist  accompanied  her  to  the  door,  where,  upon  part- 
ing, he  begged  her  to  let  him  know  where  she  would 
be  after  she  had  left. 

"  Madame,"  said  he,  "  the  scene  through  which  we 
have  just  passed  was  enough  to  bear  your  spirits  down 
to  the  earth ;  but  you  are  innocent  of  any  wrong  in 
any  way  whatever,  and,  when  your  mind  becomes  com- 
posed, remember  that  you  have  a  true  friend  in  Henri 
Delancy,  and  will  ever  have  as  long  as  life  lasts.  I 


THE   MIDNIGHT   VISION.  131 

felt  strangely  attracted  to  you  from  the  first  moment  I 
beheld  you  ;  but  my  passion  was  a  holy  flame.  Your 
purity  and  amiability  left  a  deep  impression  upon  my 
heart ;  but  I  have  nothing  to  reproach  myself  for.  I 
acted  as  a  gentleman,  and  you  will  find  me  ever  the 
same.  I  felt  it  my  duty  to  warn  you  of  the  impend- 
ing danger  about  to  befall  you;"  and,  as  he  bade  her 
farewell,  he  pressed  her  hand.  Each  one  trembled. 
They  parted.  The  wretched  woman  entered  the  house, 
and  Mary  met  her. 

"Where  is  Mr.  Bruster?"  she  asked. 

"  He  is  drowned,"  said  Medora ;  "  he  was  knocked 
overboard  by  the  boom." 

"Ah!"  exclaimed  Mary;  "he  is  gone,  then.  He 
caused  that  wicked  Thomas  to  engage  in  trying  to 
find  a  plan  to  drown  you  and  the  gentleman  who  took 
your  portrait ;  I  heard  it  awhile  ago,  ma'm.  But 
Tommy  has  lost  his  money,  and  I  am  glad  of  it ;  for 
all  the  bulls  that  the  Pope  could  have  thundered 
would  not  have  pardoned  the  foolish  boy  had  he  suc- 
ceeded in  that  plan  towards  one  so  innocent  and  kind 
as  yourself.  The  devil  came  over  Tommy.  He  owned 
to  me  that  he  did  it  for  money;  he  said  he  was 
sorry  to  do  such  a  thing.  He  thought  he  could  be 
pardoned.  I  try  to  be  a  good  Catholic,  and  pray  to 
the  Virgin  Mary,  and  all  the  saints;  but  if  Tommy 
had  drowned  you,  ma'm,  he  would  have  lain  in  purga- 
tory forever,  shure;  and  I  believe  that." 

"Well,"  said  Medora,  "I  am  going  to  leave  in  a  few 
days." 


132  THE    CRIMSON   STAR;    OR, 

"The  Lord  be  praised,  ma'm!  You  don't  tell  me  so. 
I'm  sure,  now  is  the  time  to  stay.  Ye  can  be  in  peace 
now,  ma'm ! " 

"I  have  no  right  here,  Mary.  Mr.  Bruster  had  an- 
other wife ;  she  will  soon  hear  of  his  death." 

"  Well,  then,  ma'm,"  said  the  girl,  "  I  am  going  too ; 
for  she  was  not  kind  and  good  as  you  have  been. 
Neither  Tommy  nor  I  liked  her,  and  we  were  not  sor- 
ry much  when  we  heard  that  she  was  dead." 

"  Ah,  well,"  said  Medora,  "  perhaps  she  had  trouble ; 
and  that  might  have  made  her  cross." 

"  Perhaps  she  did,  ma'm ;  but,  shure,  an'  she  was  a 
real  Yankee  lady,  for  she  said  that  us  servants  could 
never  do  enough  for  her." 

Mary  stood  weeping,  as  Medora  rolled  a  package  of 
clothing  into  a  bundle,  and  placed  a  twenty-dollar 
bill  in  her  hand,  with  a  few  presents  for  Tommy.  As 
she  handed  them  to  Mary,  the  girl  wept  as  though  her 
heart  would  break. 

"  An'  is  it  you,  ma'm,  that  be  going  to  give  Tommy 
these  presents — so  wicked  as  he  has  been?" 

"Yes,"  said  Medora.  "The  Bible  teaches  us  to  do 
good  for  evil." 

"  Well,  ma'm,  no  one  need  say  to  me,  hereafter,  that 
the  people  in  the  South  are  bad  folks,  if  ye  had  slaves ; 
for  God  knows  you  are  one  of  the  best-hearted  ladies 
I  ever  met." 

Medora  bade  Mary  farewell,  and  closed  the  door. 
The  girl  hurried  from  the  room  in  tears. 

She  then  seated  herself,  and  penned  a  letter  to  Mrs. 


THE    MIDNIGHT   VISION.  133 

Maria  Bruster — in  case  the  lady  should  ever  enter  the 
house — how  cruelly  she  had  been  deceived,  and  how 
badly  she  had  been  treated.  On  the  following  morn- 
ing, she  took  some  money,  and,  ordering  the  carriage, 
drove  to  the  boat,  which  was  to  take  her  to  the  con- 
vent, at  Mount  St.  Vincent,  where  she  would  not  be  an- 
noyed with  the  horrid  war-cry  and  bloody  troubles  of  the 
conflict.-  She  knew  it  would  be  almost  impossible 
for  her  to  get  home  then  ;  and,  besides,  her  situation  was 
such  that  she  had  better  wait  a  few  months  any  way. 
Therefore,  she  determined  to  bury  herself  within  the 
walls  of  a  nunnery,  at  least  until  the  war  was  over. 
After  traveling  for  sometime,  she  reached  the  convent. 
Upon  approaching  the  Superior,  she  trembled — won- 
dered why  it  was  she  felt  so  strangely.  But  we  are  all 
subject  to  internal  feelings,  which  predict  many  myster 
rious  things.  As  Medora  applied  for  admittance,  the 
lady  Superior  looked  strangely  at  her. 

"Have  you  been  married?"  she  inquired. 

"Why  should  she  ask  me  that  question?"  was  Medo- 
ra's  mental  thought.  "  She  must  not  be  so  inquisitive ;  I 
will  bear  my  own  troubles  within  my  breast." 

"  You  are  young,"  said  the  lady,  "  and  look  as  if  your 
heart  were  breaking."  She  then  caught  the  hand  of 
the  girl,  and  said ; 

"  We  are  alike  born  to  trouble.  I  once  had  a  sweet 
little  boy,  but  he  has  been  torn  from  my  bosom 
by  a "  She  then  paused. 

"A  villain,"  whispered  Medora,  seemingly  catching 
the  sentence  as  it  died  upon  the  lips. 


134  THE  CRIMSON  STAB;  OK, 

"Do  you  know  where  your  child  is? "asked  Medora. 

"Yes,"  said  the  Superior,  "but  I  have  nothing  to  do 
with  him.  His  father  took  him  from  me,  and  impris- 
oned me  in  an  insane  asylum,  when  I  was  as  sane  as  I 
am  now." 

" How  cruel !  "  cried  the  girl.  "Excuse  me,  madame, 
for  being  a  little  inquisitive  now ;  but  does  your  hus- 
band yet  live?" 

"No,"  said  the  Superior;  "I  heard  that  he  was 
drowned  a  short  time  ago,  while  in  a  sailing  yacht,  up 
the  Hudson." 

As  these  words  fell  from  her  lips,  Medora  turned 
pale. 

"I  heard  his  body  was  recovered,  and  he  was  in- 
terred in  the  old  homestead ;  but  I  cannot  credit  the 
story,  for  I  think  my  sister  would  have  written  to  me, 
and  stated  the  facts. 

"What  is 'the  matter?"  asked  the  lady;  "you  look 
as  though  you  were  about  to  faint;  you  are  a  reed  well 
shaken  by  the  storm." 

"  I  am,"  said  Medora,  as  the  tears  rolled  down  her 
pale  cheeks. 

"  Would  you  like  to  tell  the  name  of  your  husband?" 
asked  Medora,  feeling  more  interested.  "Perhaps  I 
have  heard  of  him." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  lady.  "  I  do  not  care  now,  for  it  has 
been  some  time  since  we  parted,  and  I  may  spend  my 
days  in  this  convent.  His  name  was  Ralph  Bruster, 
a  lawyer  of  New  York;  we  were  from  Massachusetts 
formerly." 


TOE    MIDNIGHT   VISION.  135 

As  the  words  fell  from  the  lady's  lips,  Medora 
fainted.  The  Superior  caught  her  in  her  arms,  and 
called  sister  Josephine  to  remove,  the  helpless  girl  into 
a  room.  After  a  few  moments,  she  opened  her  eyes, 
and  said  : 

"  Oh  !  madame ;  is  that  so  ?  " 

"  As  you  have  heard  some  of  my  story,  I  will  now 
relate  it  all. 

"  My  health  was  a  little  impaired ;  I  had  a  slight 
cough.  One  day,  after  my  husband  had  been  absent 
some  weeks,  he  came  home  from  New  York  in  a  much 
better  humor  than  was  usual  for  him.  I  married  him 
when  I  was  quite  young,  but  we  never  lived  happily 
together;  therefore,  his  absence  was  not  much  annoy- 
ance to  me,  as  one  might  suppose.  He  was  one  of 
those  men  who  have  no  heart,  but  a  very  small  soul, 
and  very  fickle-minded.  He  loved  me  very  much — so 
he  said — when  we  were  married,  and  I  was  devoted  to 
him.  He  was  talented  and  wealthy ;  therefore,  I  thought 
I  should  be  happy  with  him.  But  my  life  was  only  a 
blank;  and,  as  I  think  I  can  confide  in  you,  I  will 
tell  you  my  sad  story  which,  for  the  sake  of  my  child, 
I  hope  you  will  never  divulge." 

Medora  told  her  that  she  would  keep  her  secret,  and 
the  Superior  proceeded  with  the  painful  narration  : 

"My  husband  came  home  from  New  York,  as  I 
have  previously  stated,  and  remarked  to  me  that  he 
had  to  go  South ;  that  business  called  him  to  Charles- 
ton, S.  C. ;  that  the  war  was  about  to  break  out,  and 
he  had  been  employed  by  the  Government  to  go  there 


136  THE    CRIMSON   STAB  J    OB, 

on  particular  business ;  yet  he  regretted  leaving  his 
his  family  so  much;  and  said  to  me:  'Perhaps  you 
would  like  to  accompany  me,  as  your  health  is  not 
very  good.  It  would  be  a  pleasant  trip  for  you;  and 
we  shall  be  away  only  a  short  time.'  '  What  can  we  do 
with  Bobbie,'  said  I — '  take  him  along  ?  '  *  No,  no ! '  said 
iny  husband ;  'I  will  take  him  to  his  aunt's.  I  am  going 
to  Boston  in  a  few  days/  So  I  thought  I  would  like  to 
go,  knowing  that  he  would  stay  but  a  few  days;  so  I 
told  him  I  would  accompany  him. 

"  The  next  day,  I  dressed  Robbie  nicely,  and  he  kissed 
mamma  good-bye.  The  last  kiss  that  he  has  ever  im- 
printed on  my  lips  was  on  that  morning,  when  he  and 
his  papa  stepped  into  the  carraige,  and  drove  to  the 
boat,  and  in  a  short  time  were  steaming  up  the  Hud- 
son ;  then,  by  rail,  to  Massachusetts. 

"  Oh !  how  often,  in  imagination,  I  have  seen  my  dar- 
ling child,  as  he  looked  on  that  morning  when  he  went 
away.  He  was  so  happy  to  think  that  he  was  going 
on  a  visit  to  his  little  cousins. 

"  In  two  days  my  husband  returned,  and  told  me  the 
little  fellow  was  perfectly  delighted  when  he  reached 
the  city,  and  met  his  relations ;  he  did  not  want  to 
come  home  when  his  papa  came.  Then  my  husband 
left  sufficient  money  to  defray  his  expenses,  and  his 
father  presented  him  with  a  little  purse  of  gold,  for  his 
own  spending  money;  and  the  little  fellow  no  doubt 
thought  that  he  was  quite  a  man. 

"  I  have  never  seen  my  child  since  that  morning. 
When  my  husband  came  back,  I  was  all  ready,  and  we 


THE   MIDNIGHT  VISION.  137 

started  on  our  Southern  trip.  By  steam  and  locomo- 
tive power,  we  were  whirled  from  one  point  to  another, 
until  we  reached  our  destination.  The  trip  was  pleas- 
ant, had  I.  been  traveling  with  one  congenial  with 
myself;  but  my  husband  was  one  of  those  morose, 
eccentric  men,  who  had  not  a  wish,  nor  a  desire  to 
please  any  one  except  himself.  He  was  not  agreeable, 
but,  rather,  taciturn  all  the  way.  Had  he  been  more 
pleasant,  I  should  have  enjoyed  our  travel  more. 

"  After  we  had  readied  Charleston,  we  stepped  into 
the  carriage  to  drive  to  the  hotel.  He  remarked  that 
the  Southern  climate  was  salubrious;  that  he  felt 
quite  sure  my  health  would  be  benefited,  if  I  would 
stop  a  few  weeks  in  the  city ;  and  I  felt,  myself,  that 
a  warmer  climate  might  improve  my  cough.  In  a 
short  time  we  reached  the  hotel,  and  were  shown  to 
our  room,  where  everything  was  comfortable  and 
cheerful.  After  I  got  a  little  rested,  my  husband 
came  up  to  take  me  to  tea.  My  travel  had  made  me 
quite  hungry,  and  I  enjoyed  a  fine  supper.  After  we 
returned  from  the  tea-table  to  our  room,  Mr.  Bruster 
seated  himself  in  an  easy-chair,  and  smoked  one  of  his 
best  havanas,  and  looked  as  though  he  was  in  a  deep 
study.  I  caught  up  a  book  from  the  center- table,  and 
commenced  to  read;  and,  while  I  sat  reading,  he  arose 
from  his  seat,  put  on  his  hat  and  coat,  said  he  was 
going  out  for  a  short  walk,  and  would  soon  return ; 
but  he  staid  until  a  late  hour.  When  he  came  back, 
I  had  retired  for  quite  a  while. 

"  I  noticed  that  he  had  been  imbibing  a  little  too 


138  THE    CRIMSON    STAB;    OR, 

freely ;  however,  he  remarked  to  me  that  on  the  next 
morning  we  were  to  go  riding.  '  The  drives  and  prom- 
enades/ said  he,  '  in  this  climate,  are  very  fine  in  the 
morning,  when  the  flowers  *&re  in  full  bloom.  The  air 
is  impregnated  with  the  perfume  of  the  jessamine, 
heliotrope,  and  various  other  floral  shrubs,  which 
renders  a  drive  refreshing ' — which  I  readily  acceded  to. 

"In  the  morning,  I  made  my  toilet  quickly,  and  was 
ready,  very  early,  to  accompany  him. 

"About  nine  o'clock,  a  very  fine  vehicle  drove  up  to 
the  door ;  but,  instead  of  a  barouche,  it  was  a  closed 
coach.  I  then  remarked :  '  Husband,  why  did  you  not 
order  an  open  carriage  ?  then  we  could  have  a  better 
view  of  the  country.' 

"  '  Step  in,  step  in,'  he  said,  clasping  me  tightly  by 
the  arm,  as  we  passed  out."  At  this  moment  Medora 
sighed.  "  He  jumped  in  with  the  agility  of  a  schoolboy, 
and  off  the  fleet-footed  horses  bore  us,  over  hill  and 
vale;  and  on  we  rode,  until  I  was  tired. 

"  Then  I  remarked, '  How  far  are  we  going,  Mr.  Brus- 
ter  ? '  He  glanced  at  me  with  a  scowl.  '  I  thought  you 
wanted  to  see  the  country,  for  a  short  time  longer,'  said 
he.  I  said  no  more.  Then,  after  riding  we  drove  up 
to  a  large  iron  gate.  The  premises  were  surrounded 
with  a  high  stone  wall. 

" '  What  place  is  this  ?  '  said  I. 

"'It  is  the  penitentiary;  I  thought  perhaps  you 
would  like  to  see  it/ 

" '  Oh,  yes  ;  I  do  like  to  see  all  the  public  buildings 
of  a  strange  city,'  I  remarked. 


THE    MIDNIGHT   VISION.  130 

"The  driver  sprang  from  his  seat,  the  steps  were  low- 
ered, and  Mr.  Bruster  helped  me  from  the  carriage  ; 
and  the  great  iron  gate  was  unlocked,  and  swung  on 
on  its  hinges ;  and  we  were  passing  up  a  beautiful  peb- 
bled walk.  In  a  moment  more,  we  were  in  a  tremen- 
dous building;  and,  as  I  held  Mr..  Bruster's  arm 
while  passing  along  the  corridor,  I  heard  strange 
voices,  and  grasped  his  arm  more  tightly. 

"  <  What  is  the  matter  with  you  ?  » 

" '  Nothing,'  said  I.  '  I  only  heard  a  screaming.' 

"Just  at  that  moment,  a  corpulent  gentleman  met 
us  at  the  parlor  door ;  and,  smiling  pleasantly,  invited 
us  to  be  seated. 

"  '  Is  this  the  lady  ? '  said  he,  turning  to  my  hus- 
band. 

"I  thought  strange  of  the  manner  in  which  he  ad- 
dressed us.  He  then  directed  the  most  of  his  conver- 
sation to  me — he  wished  to  know  how  I  liked  the  South- 
ern climate ;  how  long  since  I  had  arrived,  and  how  long 
I  expected  to  stay,  etc.,  etc. 

"  I  thought  the  climate  would  benefit  my  health, 
for  which  purpose  I  had  come. 

"  He  thought  I  would  enjoy  my  trip,  et  cetera. 

"As  I  turned  my  eyes  toward  my  husband,  to  speak 
to  him,  he  was  gone.  I  thought  strangely  that  he  had 
left  me  so  unceremoniously,  and  had  not  excused 
himself,  but  supposed  he  had  stepped  aside  to  make 
some  inquiry  in  regard  to  passing  through  the  build- 
ing. 

"  The  corpulent  gentleman  still  sat  by  me,  and  kept 


140  THE   CRIMSON   STAB;    OB, 

me  in  conversation.  I  presume  we  sat  for  over  twenty 
minutes ;  and,  when  my  husband  did  not  return,  I 
was  induced  to  ask  the  stranger  where  he  had  gone  ? 

"  '  Gone  home,  madarne,'  said  he,  'gone  home.' 

"  'We  came  to  see  the  penitentiary.' 

" '  Penitentiary,  madanie !  you  are  in  the  insane 
asylum,'  said  he. 

"  '  What  does  this  mean  ? '  said  I ;  '  I  am  not  insane. 
My  husband  will  be  back  in  a  few  days,  will  he  not? ' 

"  'He  may  be  back  to  see  you  in  a  few  weeks,  when 
you  get  better.  We  will  soon  cure  you.' 

"  '  Cure  me,  sir !  I  am  not  sick.  I  have  a  slight  cough 
— that  is  all.' 

" '  Oh  !  never,  never  mind.  Come,  go  with  me  to  your 
room;  all  will  soon  be  right.' 

" '  0  God ! '  I  cried,  as  I  sank  back  in  my  seat, 
and,  bursting  into  tears,  clasped  my  hands  in  prayer; 
for  then  I  saw  I  was  duped. 

"I  had  been  abducted  by  my  own  husband,  for  some 
vile  purpose ;  and,  when  the  reality  flashed  upon  my 
mind,  I  thought  I  would  lose  my  reason,'  then  and 
there.  I  wrung  my  hands  in  agony,  and  begged  the 
stranger  to  send' me  back  to  the  hotel. 

"  'No,  no,'  said  he,  '  not  just  now.  Now  we  will  go 
to  your  room.' 

"  Then,  clasping  me  tightly  by  the  arm,  he  said : 
'You  cannot  go  home  until  you  are  cured.' 

"  Then  he  escorted  me  to  my  room,  which  was  beau- 
tifully furnished,  and  had  every  comfort  that  the  heart 
could  wish  for. 


THE   MIDNIGHT   VISION.  141 

"  The  doctor  was  very  courteous,  and  told  me  he  was 
the  principal  physician,  and  treated  me  so  kindly,  that 
I  thought  that  I  could  confide  in  him.  I  told  him 
that  I  thought  my  heart  would  break  with  grief.  I 
then  stated  to  him  how  my  husband  had  deceived  me  by 
telling  me  he  was  taking  me  to  see  the  penitentiary, 
and  brought  me  to  an  insane  asylum  ;  how  he  had 
deceived  me  in  bringing  me  away  from  my  darling 
child,  and  brought  me  to  this  secluded  spot,  for  a  pur- 
pose which  I  could  not  understand.  And,  as  I  spoke  of 
my  darling  Robbie,  who  had'  been  taken  in  such  a 
clandestine  way,  to  deceive  me,  it  was  more  than  my  poor 
heart  could  bear.  It  was  then  I  wrung  my  hands  in 
agony,  and  tore  my  hair  in  such  a  manner,  that  I 
know  the  man  thought  I  was  insane.  I  knew  that 
my  husband  was  a  wicked,  cruel  man  ;  but  I  could  not 
realize  the  dark  deed  which  he  had  committed. 

"  The  kind  man  pitied  me ;  I  know  he  did.  He  gazed 
at  me  intently,  but  only  said:  'You  will  soon  be  well ; 
never  mind,  you  shall  have  every  attention,  and  in  a  lit- 
tle while  you  will  meet  your  husband  and  child  again.' 

"'My husband!'  said  I;  'I  never  want  to  meet  him 
again  in  this  world,  a  man  that  would  treat  ine  thus  ; 
out,  in  the  spirit  world,  God  will  judge  between  him 
and  me.  But  my  Robbie ;  oh !  my  Robbie.  Yes,  I 
shall  see  my  child  again,  and  we  will  be  happy 
yet.' 

"  At  first,  the  physician  did  not  mind  what  I  said,  in 
regard  to  my  being  crazy ;  for  all  insane  people 
say  they  are  not  crazy.  He  remarked,  after  a  short 
4* 


142  THE   CRIMSON   STAR;    OR, 

while,  that  he  saw  my  mind  was  not  in  the  least 
impaired.' 

"Afterwards,  he  said  to  a  friend  that  he  felt  quite 
ashamed  of  himself,  for  letting  a  Yankee  pnll  the 
wool  so  closely  over  his  eyes ;  especially  at  such  a  time, 
when  everything  was  in  political  confusion — when  it 
was  hard  to  distinguish  friend  from  foe.  And  when  the 
faculty  found  that  I  was  all  right,  they  did  not  know 
what  construction  to  put  on  this  strange  freak  of  my 
husband. 

"  They  knew  that  there  was  intrigue  behind  the  cur- 
tain, and  supposed  I  might  have  been  placed  there  as 
a  spy,  as  the  war  was  about  to  break  out.  From  our 
appearance,  they  knew  that  we  were  wealthy.  At  such 
a  time,  they  thought  I  should  be  sent  home  imme- 
diately ;  therefore,  they  wrote  to  Mr.  Bruster  to  come 
for  me — that  my  mind  was  thoroughly  restored. 

"  Some  weeks  rolled  on ;  he  did  not  come,  neither  did 
they  hear  from  him."  And,  as  the  Superior  related  her 
sad  story,  the  tears  rolled  down  our  heroine's  pale 
cheeks,  as  it  brought  her  own  trouble  more  vividly  to 
mind. 

The  lady  proceeded  with  her  narrative.  She 
remarked  that  persons  who  were  so  unfortunate  as  to 
become  insane  should  always  be  kept  in  their  own 
families,  as  many  of  those  institutions  destroy  the  lit- 
tle spark  of  rational  feeling  people  have  who  are  put 
under  their  care.  "But  the  Southern  asylum  was 
managed  very  differently  from  others  which  I  have 
read  of;  servants  were  not  permitted  to  tyrannize  over 


THE    MIDNIGHT    VISION'.  143 

the  sick  and  afflicted.  The  hospitality  of  the  physicians 
and  the  kindness  of  the  help  would  have  aided  greatly 
in  the  restoration  of  my  mind,  had  it  been  in  the  least 
impaired.  My  own  case  was  similar  to  that  of  a  Mrs. 
Packard,  of  Illinois,  who  had  been  abdncted  by  her 
cruel  husband,  and  he  was  an  Episcopalian  minister. 
I  never  knew  the  lady,  personally;  but,  from  what  I 
have  read  of  her  works,  she  evidently  was  one  among 
our  talented  women.  But  this  good  man,  this  very 
pious  man,  tore  a  mother  from  six  children,  and  incar- 
cerated her,  just  as  I  was;  and  for  years  she  suffered 
from  the  inhuman  treatment  of  which  ignorant  ser- 
vants and  inhuman  physicians  were  the  cause. 

"  Through  her  husband's  vileness,  he  succeeded  in 
making  the  old  gentleman  (his  wife's  father)  believe 
that  his  daughter  was  really  insane;  he  managed  to 
extort  large  sums  of  money  from  her  father,  which 
enabled  him  to  keep  her  there  for  years ;  but  she, 
being  a  good,  pious  woman,  prayed  daily  and  hourly  to 
God  to  send  her  forth  from  that  prison.  He  heard 
and  answered  her  prayers;  therefore  she  succeeded, 
after  a  long  struggle,  in  convincing  a  few  friends  that 
she  was  not  insane,  and  had  been  incarcerated  to 
gratify  the  wicked  whim  of  a  false  and  designing 
man.  And  through  their  influence  she  was  enabled, 
after  a  long  struggle,  to  get  out ;  and,  through  her  per- 
scM-ranoi.!  and  influence,  she  has  been  enabled  to 
be  the  means  of  several  bills  passing  the  legislature 
last  winter,  in  regard  to  the  treatment  of  insane  peo- 
ple. She  has  done  much  good  in  regenerating  the 


144  THE   CRIMSON    STAB;    OK, 

management  of  many  of  these  institutions  through 
the  West.  And  I  do  not  doubt  but  God  will  bless  her 
labors  abundantly,  as  she  has  been  the  wheat  sifted 
from  the  chaff.  Her  case  was  a  sad  one.  Many  of 
our  sex  have  had  to  suffer  from  inhuman  husbands 
likewise,  but  'the  wicked  shall  be  caught  in  his  own 
snare.' " 

'Twas  then  that  Medora  thought  of  the  watery 
grave  at  the  midnight  hour. 

"I  have  digressed  from  my  subject,  but  this  poor 
woman  was  paramount  in  my  mind.  Now  I  will  pro- 
ceed Avith  my  sad  fate : 

"  The  winter  of  1860  passed  away,  and  the  spring  of 
1861  came  forth ;  and  the  first  shot  was  fired  on  Fort 
Sumter.  From  that  came  all  other  battles  which  laid 
waste  the  fair  cities  and  green  fields  of  the  Southern 
States,  and  saturated  their  soil  with  the  blood  of  the 
best  men  of  our  country,  both  North  and  South  ;  and 
the  people  were  mourning  over  their  ruins,  as 
*Caius  Marius  mourned  over  the  ruins  of  Carthage.'" 

At  this  moment  Medora  trembled  and  gave  a  deep 
sigh,  which  seemed  to  come  from  the  depths  of  her 
heart,  knowing,  at  that  very  time,  that  the  only 
brother  she  had  was  in  the  Southern  army.  But  the 
lady  Superior,  being  so  interested  in  her  narration, 
scarcely  noticed  the  effect  her  conversation  had  on  our 
heroine. 

"  The  war  was  raging  fearfully  at  the  time  I  made 
my  escape.  They  did  not  like  to  send  me  away ;  and,  as 
my  husband  did  not  come  for  me,  there  was  no  more 


THE   MIDNIGHT  VISION.  145 

watch  kept  over  me,  and  I  knew  they  did  not  care 
whether  I  ran  the  blockade  or  not;  so  I  made  up  my 
mind  to  escape  at  the  very  earliest  opportunity.  But  I 
shall  never  forget  those  good  people,  and  their  kind- 
ness to  me  while  incarcerated  in  that  asylum.  What  I 
disliked  most  was  having  to  eat  at  the  table  with  those 
poor  crazy  people. 

"  I  knew  that  no  one  would  molest  me ;  therefore  I 
went  out  one  afternoon  for  a  promenade  in  the  pleas- 
ure grounds.  I  passed  on  till  I  reached  the  iron  gate, 
and  it  was  opened  just  a  little  way.  I  would  have 
liked  to  say  good-by  to  the  physicians  and  servants, 
and  thank  them  for  their  kindness,  but  I  dared  not  go 
back,  for  fear  they  might  detain  me.  So  I  hastened  on 
through  the  gate  quickly,  and  on  I  sped  as  hurriedly 
as  if  the  pickets  were  after  me.  I  walked  a  long  dis- 
tance before  I  came  to  a  hotel.  I  had  a  little  Confed- 
erate money,  made  a  present  to  me  by  one  of  the 
physicians.  I  also  had  gold.  I  managed  to  get  along 
until  I  reached  the  camp  of  one  of  the  Northern 
officers  ;  from,  there  I  was  sent  through  the  lines,  on  to 
New  York. 

"But  I  knew,  if  I  went  home  to  my  husband,  he 
might  do  even  worse  than  imprison  me  in  an  asylum ; 
and,  for  a  while,  I  did  not  know  where  to  go.  I  wrote 
to  my  sister,  in  Boston,  stating  my  arrival  from  the 
South  ;  saying  that  my  trip  must  be  shrouded  in  mys- 
tery for  the  present;  that,  at  a  future  day,  I  would  tell 
JUT  all ;  that  I  had  recovered  my  health,  and  in  a  few 
months  I  should  visit  her;  but  concealed  my  where- 


146  THE   CRIMSON   STAR  J    OR, 

abouts  for  the  present,  as  I  then  intended  to  come  to 
this  institute,  and  live  in  obscurity,  for  a  while  at 
least. 

"  In  answer  to  my  letter,  I  received  all  the  informa- 
tion in  regard  to  my  child — that  he  was  well  and  at 
school,  and  often  inquired  for  mamma.  This  letter 
made  me  sad;  yet  a  weight  seemed  lifted  from  my 
mind. 

"To  live  with  my  husband  again — a  man  so  totally 
devoid  of  natural  feeling,  and  inhuman,  as  I  had 
proved  him  to  be  all  my  life — was  sufficient  to  detain 
me  from  going  home.  Being  a  Catholic,  I  there- 
fore was  determined  to  become  a  Sister  of  Mercy ;  and 
to  live  a  secluded  life  was  all  that  I  .desired  in  this 
world. 

"  I  may  live  and  die  in  this  convent,  now  that  my 
child  is  being  educated  and  cared  for." 

Medora,  trembling  and  almost  gasping  for  breath : 
"  What  does  this  mean  ?"  said  she. 

"  Do  you  know  him  ?  have  you  heard  of  that  man  ?  " 
said  the  lady  Superior. 

"  Yes,  I  have  heard  of  him,  and  perhaps  know  too 
much  of  him." 

"  Does  he  live  ?  "  said  the  Superior. 

"  JSro  ;  "  said  our  heroine,  "  he  is  dead." 

Although  the  lady  had  imagined  that  all  her  love 
had  flown ;  yet,  when  she  heard  positively  that  he  was 
dead,  an  arrow  seemingly  penetrated  her  soul. 

"Dead!  dead!  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  Ralph 
Bruster  is  really  dead  ?  "  she  cried.  "  You  do  not  tell 


THE   MIDNIGHT   VISION.  147 

me  that  he  is  gone !  Is  it  really  true  that  he  is  no  more  ? 
Oh !  the  Virgin  Mary,  the  mother  of  Jesus,  save  him  ! " 
and  the  poor  woman  fell  senseless  to  the  floor.  She 
had  heard  that  he  was  drowned,  but  she  thought,  per- 
haps, it  was  not  true,  until  that  moment. 

"  What  has  come  over  the  Superior  ?  "  said  Sister 
Josephine;  "she  is  never  sick,  and  is  in  very  good 
spirits  generally." 

"  She  is  troubled,"  said  Medora. 

"Ah,  yes;"  replied  the  nun. 

The  Superior  was  carried  to  her  room,  and  Medora 
to  hers,  and  for  several  days  they  did  not  meet  again. 
When,  at  length,  they  met,  each  one  was  more  calm, 
and  they  talked  together  like  sisters. 

Mrs.  Bruster  did  not  stop  long  at  St.  Vincent  after 
hearing  the  death  of  her  husband  confirmed.  She  left 
the  convent,  and  took  possession  of  her  property.  She 
soon  visited  her  sister  and  her  little  son,  and  took 
him  home.  She  found  on  her  bureau  the  letter  writ- 
ten by  Medora,  but  there  was  no  name  signed.  It 
seemed,  by  some  strange  instinct,  that  the  lady  sus- 
pected that  Medora  was  the  woman  who  had  been 
duped  by  the  same  vile  wretch  that  had  destroyed  her 
happiness  for  life. 


148  THE    CRIMSON    STAB ;    OB, 


CHAPTEE  IX. 

THE   BIRTH   OF   IDA. 

!  what  strange  things  sometimes  come  to  pass. 
Although  our  heroine  had  kept  her  secret,  yet 
the  lady  suspected  all,  she  said  to  her,  and 
offered  her  a  home.  But  Medora  told  her  of 
her  father's  beautiful  plantation  on  the  Chesapeake, 
and  of  the  wealth  she  had  left  behind. 

"  Oh,"  said  the  widow  of  the  lawyer,  "  I  perceived  at 
once  that  you  were  a  gentleman's  daughter,  and,  so 
soon  as  I  caught  your  hand,  I  believed  that  you  had 
been  deceived  by  some  false  heart ;  and  now  I  know  it, 
for  that  man  who  has  met  such  a  fate  once  pretended 
to  worship  me,  but  he  soon  grew  weary  of  me,  and  I 
— I  was  miserable,  and  made  others  so  ;  even  my  poor 
servants  could  not  please  me.  But  after  I  came  into 
the  convent,  and  turned  my  attention  to  religious  du- 
ties, I  thought  often  of  Mary  and  Thomas,  who  were 
such  good  servants,  but  I  was  too  hard  upon  them.  I 
have  suffered  for  having  been  so  harsh.  Many  pen- 
ances have  I  done." 

The  Superior  gave  Medora  good  advice,  and  parted 
from  her  with  a  promise  to  visit  the  convent  as  often 
as  possible.  This  was  Mrs.  Bruster,  who  had  been  in- 


THE    MIDNIGHT   VISION.  149 

carcerated  in  a  cell  by  her  husband,  and  had  HOAV  es- 
caped.    The  dead  woman  had  come  to  life. 

"  Oh  !  could  we  see  beyond  the  present  moment,  how 
differently  would  we  act."  Here  was  a  girl,  treated  in 
the  most  cruel  manner.  Who  would  have  believed 
that  Medora  Palmore  would  have  killed  a  worm — she 
who  had  been  so  kind  and  good  to  every  human  being? 
She,  it  is  true,  did  not  treat  her  French  lover,  Eugene 
Appomore,  just  right;  she  should  have  waited  his  re- 
turn, yet  she  did  not.  But,  oh !  that  old  mercenary 
mamma — she  caused  all  this  trouble.  Her  father's 
slaves  at  Edge  Hill  loved  her  dearly.  That  can  easily 
be  seen  by  her  parting  with  the  colored  girl,  Lucinda, 
on  the  morning  of  her  departure  from  home.  No 
doubt  God  heard  the  prayer  of  that  ignorant  African. 
Medora  had  requested  her  to  pray  for  her;  yet,  in  an 
hour  when  sorely  tried,  she  saved  her  own  life  at 
the  expense  of  another.  If  people  would  only  have 
faith  in  their  Creator,  He  would  deliver  them  from 
many  difficulties.  No  power  can  stand  before  the 
arm  of  God.  He,  who  sends  his  angels  on  earth  to 
save  his  children  ;  such  as  Shadrach,  Meshach,  and 
Abednego.  A  furnace  heated  even  seven  times  hotter 
than  usual  cannot  singe  the  hair  of  a  true  child  of  God. 
Therefore,  Medora  was  saved  from  the  grasp  of  a  tyrant. 
She  was  saved  from  the  deadly  narcotic  which  lie  had 
prepared  ;  she  was  saved  from  the  pangs  of  the  death- 
dealing  bullet ;  she  was  rescued  from  a  watery  grave. 
In  his  last  attempt  to  murder  her  he  failed,  and  fell 
a  victim  in  his  own  snare.  The  reader  may  be  won- 


150  THE    CEIMSON   STAR;    OK, 

dering  why  it  was  that  she  escaped  so  many  dangers? 
Let  them  recall  to  mind  the  teachings  of  Christ  and 
His  apostles ;  let  them  cast  their  minds  back  to  the 
days  of  St.  Paul,  Avhen  he  was  in  a  ship,  sailing  under 
Crete,  over  against  Salmone ;  and,  falling  into  a  place 
where  the  seas  met,  they  ran  the  ship  aground,  and 
the  vessel  was  burst  asunder  by  the  waves.  But  were 
the  apostles  lost  ?  No ;  each  one  swam  to  the  shore. 
Some  understood  swimming,  while  others  did  not;  but 
they  who  were  less  skilled  in  the  art  came  ashore  on 
broken  pieces  of  the  ship,  and  all  reached  land  in 
safety. 

If  we  trusted  in  God,  we  would  get  on  more  smoothly 
in  life.  The  heroine  of  this  story  was  taught  to  have 
faith  in  her  Creator,  from  an  infant ;  therefore,  when 
she  was  a  prisoner — as  her  own  home  was  a  prison 
she  knew  that  she  had  been  wronged  in  the  most  cruel 
manner — she  only  wept,  and  prayed  to  God  to  deliver 
her  from  such  acute  misery  and  disgrace. 

We  shall  see  the  end  of  this  romance,  if  we  have 
patience  to  continue  to  read.  It  is  with  difficulty 
that  we  can  resist  dwelling  on  certain  circumstances 
too  long;  and  we  hope  our  kind  reader  will  excuse  us 
if  we  dwell  longer  on  a  character  than  the  reader 
should  admire.  We  are  apt  to  say  too  much  on  a  sub- 
ject which  is  uppermost  in  our  mind  for  a  mo- 
ment. 

But  we  will  leave  the  heroine  in  the  convent  at 
Mount  St.  Vincent,  and  try  to  picture  to  our  reader 
the  Family  at  Edge  hill. 


THE    MIDNIGHT   VISION.  151 

The  summer  had  passed  away ;  the  flowers  had 
nearly  bloomed  their  lust  for  the  season ;  the  leaves 
were  turning  yellow,  and  falling  to  the  ground;  the 
birds  did  not  sing  so  sweetly ;  the  rushing  wafers  of 
the  Rappahannock  burst  on  its  shores  more  furiously; 
the  wind  howled  drearily  and  mournfully.  The  beau- 
tiful, but  antiquated,  plantation  at  Edge  Hill  bore  a 
dreary  appearance. 

Jasper  was  in  the  army,  and  all  was  dread.  Scarce  a 
smile  ever  visited  the  lips  of  the  parents  of  Medora. 
Every  battle  that  was  fought,  they  knew  not  but  that 
their  only  son  might  fall.  He  had  been  promoted 
to  a  colonel,  and  was  a  very  excellent  man.  Colonel 
Palmore  was  one  of  General  Lee's  favorite  friends ;  yet 
a  sadness  rested  on  the  countenance  of  each  indi- 
vidual. 

Poor  Lucinda,  the  house-girl,  had  no  more  jokes  to 
tell.  She  never  looked  toward  the  harbor  and  saw  a 
a  vessel,  but  she  was  sure  to  say  something  about 
Miss  Medora,  and  the  old  man  who  carried  her  away. 
She  sometimes  said  she  was  sick ;  sometimes,  that  she 
was  imprisoned.  But  she  was  an  African,  and  no  one 
paid  much  attention  to  her  sayings. 

One  evening  Mr.  Palmore  came  in,  and,  as  was  his 
usual  rule,  seated  himself  in  a  corner,  lighted  his  pipe, 
and  smoked  away  swiftly.  As  he  puifed  the  tobacco, 
he  looked  sad;  and,  casting  his  eyes  up  toward  the 
mantel,  remarked  to  his  wife  that  he  wished  the  portrait 
of  Medora  removed  from  the  room,  for  he  could  not 
sit  down  without  her  gazing  into  his  face;  "and," 


152  THE   CRIMSON   STAE  J    OB, 

said  he,  "  she  looks  to  me  most  imploringly,  as  though 
she  said :  '  Oh  !  papa,  do  something  for  me.'" 

"  How  long  has  the  portrait  looked  in  that  way  ?  " 
asked  the  wife. 

"For  some  months,"  said  he;  "  but  I  thought  it  was 
only  imagination,  and  said  nothing  about  it.  But  now 
there  seems  to  be  a  call,  as  if  some  one  is  whispering  to 
me,  and  says:  'Come,  come!'  and  it  must  be  my 
daughter,  for  we  cannot  hear  from  her.  She  has  never 
written  a  letter  herself  at  all ;  and  there  is  some  mys- 
tery in  her  conduct." 

"Yes,"  said  the  old  lady,  "I  think  so  too,  hus- 
band, but  we  must  not  give  way  to  such  imaginations. 
Medora  is  certainly  a  woman  of  good  sense,  and  has 
sufficient  courage  to  protect  herself,  although  she 
is  amiable.  But  I  will  remove  the  portrait  if  you 
wish." 

Mrs.  Palmore  was  feeling  as  badly  as  her  husband. 
The  old  lady  rang  the  bell  for  Lucinda,  who  answered 
it  immediately. 

"Lucinda,"  said  Mrs.  Palmore,  "get  upon  a  chair, 
and  assist  me  to  take  down  the  portrait  of  Miss 
Medora." 

"What  for,  missus?"  asked  the  girl ;  "is  you  gwine 
to  send  it  away  ?  " 

"No,  no;  your  master  wishes  it  hung  in  the 
parlor." 

"O  Lord!  ma'm;  I  is  sorry  for  dat.  I  doesn't  go 
in  de  parlor  often,  and  I  does  sit  in  de  chamber;  and 
ile  picter  ob  Miss  Dora  keeps  me  company  when  you 


THE   MIDNIGHT  VISION.  153 

and  ole  marster  is  away.  I  almost  think  dat  she  will 
speak  to  me,  and  hold  out  her  hand  once  more." 

"Ah  !  well,"  said  her  mistress;  "go  and  fix  it  in  the 
parlor,  and  you  may  look  in  whenever  you  please,  if 
that  will  do  you  any  good ;  we  are  not  so  cruel  as 
some  of  our  Northern  friends  imagine  us  to  be." 

"  Dat's  so,  missus,  sure." 

Away  ran  Lucinda,  holding  on  to  the  picture.  With 
the  assistance  of  her  mistress  she  hung  it  up,  and,  as 
she  sprang  from  the  chair  to  the  floor,  she  exclaimed  : 

"  God  save  and  protect  Miss  Dora,  wherever  she  is 
in  dis  war.  But  de  heavens  knows,  missus.  I  believe 
she  is  in  a  dungeon,  or  some  sort  ob  close  place,  sar- 
tin,  missus  ;  cause,  sometimes  I  think  dat  she  started 
to  come  home,  and  de  Yankees  done  got  her  and  put 
Her  in  prison." 

"No,  no,  I  hope  not,"  said  Mrs.  Palmore.  "Go  now 
to  your  work,  Lucinda." 

«  The  girl  obeyed.  After  the  removal  of  the  por- 
trait, Mr.  Palmore  said  that  he  felt  much  better,  for 
her  piercing  eyes  did  not  follow  him  so  closely. 

All  went  on  as  usual  at  Edge  Hill ;  only  the  season 
looked  dreary,  and  it  was  in  October  that  Medora  was 
married  and  left  her  father's  house.  The  season  of  the 
year  is  very  apt  to  make  an  impression  upon  our 
minds.  When  anything  occurs  in  life  that  turns  out 
well,  it  is  apt  to  be  remembered;  and  if  the  contrary,  it 
is  also  not  forgotten.  But,  as  yet,  the  parents  of 
our  heroine  are  in  darkness  in  regard  to  her  situation. 
The  war  is  still  raging.  Jasper  Palmore  is  on  the  bat- 
7* 


154  THE   CEIMSON    STAB  J    OR, 

tie-field.  Some  of  our  bravest  men  were  falling,  and 
the  Southern  army  failing  to  gain  what  they  so  much 
desired,  which  was,  to  be  as  a  nation  to  themselves. 
But,  as  old  Mr.  Palmore  said,  "All  is  well  that  ends 
well." 

The  evening  after  that  in  which  Lucinda  had 
removed  the  portrait  from  the  chamber,  she  ran  up 
stairs  for  something,  and  rushed  into  the  room  that 
Medora  always  had  occupied  when  at  home.  As  she 
entered  the  door,  she  shrieked  and  fell  down  the  steps. 
The  old  people  flew  to  her  assistance, '  and  asked  what 
on  earth  was  the  matter. 

"  Oh !  my  Lord,"  said  Lucinda.  "  Missus,  I  saw  poor 
Miss  Dora  standing  at  the  room  door,  with  a  baby  in 
her  arms,  and  she  looked  almost  dead.  She  was  no 
more  like  dat  portrait  dan  nothing;  still  it  was  her, 
kase  she  looked  like  she  would  speak  every  minute." 

The  poor  girl  wrung  her  hands  and  wept.  Her  mis- 
tress said :  « 

"  I  reckon  you  are  mistaken,  Lucinda.  My  child  is 
a  long  distance  from  here." 

"  Well,  dat  may  be,  but  dat  was  her  spirit,  sartin ; 
kase  I  nebber  was  so  scared  in  my  born  days." 

"  Well,  Medora  would  visit  us,  in  body  or  spirit,  if 
she  could,  I  feel  sure.  If  she  was  dead  she  would 
come,  as  our  departed  friends  do  visit  earth." 

"  Dat  was  her  spirit,  den,"  said  Lucinda. 

"  The  Yankees  surely  believe  in  spiritual  power. 
That,  perhaps,  accounts  for  their  gaining  the  victories 
now;  they  may  have  consulted  some  of  their  warriors 


THE    MIDNIGHT   VISION.  155 

who  have  fallen,"  said  Mr.  Palmore,  with  a  sarcastic 
smile — although  he  was  more  inclined  to  believe  the 
story  of  the  girl  than  was  his  wife,  for  he  had  been  trou- 
bled by  some  such  visions,  but  had  not  mentioned  it 
to  the  family.  Lncinda  went  into  the  kitchen,  and 
there  was  no  more  said.  When  Jasper  came  in,  lie 
missed  the  portrait  of  his  sister  in  a  moment,  and 
asked  what  had  been  done  with  it.  He  was  at  home 
on  a  furlough. 

"  It  is  in  the  parlor,"  replied  his  mother. 

"  Why  was  it  removed  ?"  asked  the  young  man. 

"  Because  your  father  wished  it,"  was  the  reply. 

The  son  gave  a  heavy  sigh,  and  said : 

"Mother,  there  is  something  wrong  connecled  with 
the  marriage  of  my  sister,  and  she  is  in  trouble." 

"  Why  do  you  think  so,  my  son  ?  " 

"  Because  I  have  felt  so  strangely  at  times,  when  I 
looked  upon  her  face.  It  appears  to  me  that  she 
would  change  from  a  smile  to  weeping,  and  look 
very  sad;  very  unlike  my  sister's  natural  disposi- 
tion." 

"  Well,"  said  his  mother,  "  it  is  very  strange  that 
you  all  have  these  impressions  about  the  child  ;  and 
even  Lucinda  declares  that  she  saw  her  spirit.  I  do 
not  know  what  such  things  mean.  However,  if  she  is 
in  any  trouble,  I  am  sure  that  she  must  blame  me, 
for  I  was  the  only  one  of  her  family  who  encouraged 
her  to  marry  that  old  man.  But  he  appeared  to  love 
the  child  so  much,  that  I  thought  she  would  do  well 
to  maiTV  him." 


156  THE  CEIMSON  STAE;  OB, 

"  Oh,  mother,  this  man  has  broken  many  hearts, 
and,  perhaps,  she  is  one  of  the  victims." 

"  Well,"  said  Jasper,  "  there  is  something  wrong 
connected  with  her  in  some  way,  and  I  really  do  hate 
to  go  near  her  schoolmates ;  for  I  have  been  asked  so 
many  questions,  which  I  have  been  unable  to  answer, 
not  having  heard  from  her — all  that  has  been  written 
having  been  done  by  her  husband.  I  had  rather  be  on 
the  battle-field  than  submit  to  such  inquiries  about  my 
sister." 

"  Well,  perhaps  we  will  hear  from  her  one  of  these 
days,  'when  this  cruel  war  is  over.'  " 

"  I  hope  so,"  said  Jasper.  "  Good  bye,  I  must  go,v 
and  he  left  the  room ;  but  his  mother  noticed  that 
tears  stood  in  the  eyes  of  her  sou,  and  she  began  to  be 
infected  with  the  general  superstition  in  regard  to  her 
daughter;  but  she  tried  to  distract  her  mind  from  the 
thought. 

The  next  day  was  the  Sabbath  ;  and,  at  the  usual 
hour,  the  carriage  was  driven  to  the  door,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  conveying  the  family  to  church.  As  they  were 
all  seated,  and  the  driver  closed  the  door,  he  said : 

"  One  more  person  is  needed  in  de  carriage,  mas- 
ter, to  make  the  usual  number." 

"  And  who  may  that  be,  Joe  ?  " 

"  Miss  Dora,  sir ;  I  don't  know  when  I  thought  of 
her  before  dis  minute.  She  used  always  to  go  to 
church,  rain  or  shine." 

"  So  she  did,"  replied  his  master. 

The  driver  jumped  upon  his  seat  and  drove  off.    As 


THK   MIDNIGHT   VISION.  157 

they  neared  Heathville,  the  bell  sounded  mournfully. 
The  colored  man  hud  reminded  them  of  their  stray 
lamb,  and  the  tolling  of  the  bell  appeared  to  sound 
different  from  any  which  they  had  previously  heard. 
The  minister  arose,  and  the  words  of  his  text  were 
taken  from  Deuteronomy,  xxxii.  43  :  "Kejoice,  oh  ye 
nations,  with  His  people ;  for  He  will  avenge  the 
blood  of  His  servancs,  and  will  render  vengeance  to 
His  adversaries,  and  will  be  merciful  unto  His  land, 
and  to  His  people." 

The  Kev.  Dr.  Kirk  preached  a  powerful  sermon,  and 
he  appeared  to  particularly  emphasize  his  words  to 
the  just  and  injured,  wherever  they  might  be. 

Mr.  Palmore's  family  returned  home,  each  one  com- 
forted ;  even  the  wild  and  thoughtless  Jasper.  The 
parents  believed  that  God  would  protect  and  comfort 
their  offspring,  wherever  she  might  be. 

"  Strange,"  said  Mr.  Palmore  to  his  wife,  as  after 
dinner  they  were  seated  in  the  chamber, "strange  that 
Joe  should  have  spoken  of  Medora,  as  he  was  closing 
the  carriage  door  this  morning,  wasn't  it,  wife  ?  " 

"'  Well,  husband,  our  slaves  always  loved  our  chil- 
dren." 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  old  lady;  "but  it  appears  as  if 
our  colored  people  think  as  much  about  the  poor  child 
as  we  do,  and  I  am  glad  to  perceive  that  they  have  not 
forgotten  her." 

"  I  do  not  see  how  they  could,"  said  the  old  gentleman. 
"It  may  be,  now,  that  the  Yankee  lawyer  treats  his  wife 
much  worse  than  any  Southern  man  does  his  slaves." 


158  THE    CEIMSOX   STAE  ;    OR, 

'•'Nor  I,"  said  Medora's  mother;  "for  she  always 
made  herself  a  little  simpleton  about  Joe  and  Lucinda. 
I  could  never  keep  any  cake  or  pudding  around,  for 
her  begging  for  it  between  meals  for  them  ;  and  I  am 
sure  they  fared  as  well  as  we  did." 

"I  do  not  think  that  slavery  is  exactly  right,"  said 
the  old  gentleman  ;  "but  the  North  has  meddled  en- 
tirely too  much." 

"  Ah !  well,"  said  the  old  man,  "  they  will  all  soon 
be  free." 

"Well,  be  it  so.  I  had  much  rather  that  my  chil- 
dren were  kind  to  my  slaves  than  tyrannical — the 
latter  they  should  not  be,  were  they  disposed." 

"I  wonder  how  Medora  gets  along  at  the  North," 
said  her  father ;  "  for  I  guess  she  does  not  have  a  maid 
to  undress  her  now,  and  around  the  room,  all  the  while, 
to  answer  every  beck  and  call." 

"Neither  Avill  she  have  slaves  in  a  year  or  two 
more." 

"Fob!  wife,  you  talk  silly;  she  has  white  servants, 
I  suppose,  if  she  has  any,"  said  Mr.  Palmore.  "The 
old  man  whom  she  married  had  several  when  I  was 
there." 

"Poor  child!  I  fear  that  she  has  seen  some  hard 
times  since  she  left  our  house.  But  really,  brother 
Kirk's  sermon,  to-day,  gave  me  great  encouragement." 

"  So  it  did  me,"  said  the  old  gentleman.  "  We  have 
faith,  and  believe  that  our  daughter  will  be  protected 
under  all  circumstances  of  life.  I  sometimes  think 
that  she  will  come  home  and  live  again  with  us." 


THE   MIDNIGHT   VISION.  159 

"'  Yes,  she  may,"  said  the  old  lady.  "  I  hope  so,  if 
all  should  be  right." 

"  Right  or  wrong,"  said  Mr.  Palmore,  "  she  is  my 
child  ;  and,  as  I  told  her  when  she  left  my  house,  in 
honor  or  dishonor  she  is  mine,  and  I  will  protect  her 
as  long  as  I  breathe." 

"  Suppose  that  she  has  met  with  some  wonderful 
disgrace,  and  has  dishonored  herself  and  family ;  would 
you  then  recognize  and  receive  her  ?" 

"  Most  assuredly  I  should.  This  is  why  there  are  so 
many  lost  women  in  the  world.  When  a  daughter, 
or  sister,  or  relative,  acts  wrongly,  she  is  denounced 
by  her  friends  and  acquaintances;  and  at  once 
feels  she  is  destroyed — plunges  herself  into  deeper 
and  deeper  misery,  and  often  becomes  the  lowest 
wretch  on  earth ;  when,  had  those  parents  and  rel- 
atives forgiven  and  pitied  the  fallen,  she  might  have 
repented,  and  lived  a  different  life.  Our  Saviour 
forgave  the  woman  that  was  brought  to  him,  and  why 
should  we  not  do  the  same?  The  disciples  wanted 
her  stoned  to  death,  but  Christ  said  :  '  He  that  is  with- 
out sin,  let  him  cast  the  first  stone ; '  and  they  all  went 
out,  hanging  their  heads  down.  Such  is  the  world. 
The  very  people  who  condemn  others  are  much  worse 
than  those  persons  \\ho>t-  names  they  take  pleasure  in 
tarnishing.  "Would  to  God  we  could  see  ourselves  as 
our  Maker  sees  us ;  and  then,  what  poor,  miserable 
souls  we  would  prove  ourselves  to  be.  If  old  John 
Brown  could  have  seen  the  misery — the  blood  which 
he  spilt — he  no  doubt  might  have  acted  differently." 


160  THE    CEIMSON   STAR  ;    OK, 

"  True  enough,  husband.  But,  really,  I  do  not  ap- 
prehend any  such  trouble  about  my  child ;  for  we  saw 
her  married,  and  the  minister  went  home  with  them, 
all  right,  I  guess." 

"  Guess — sure  enough,  as  they  say  at  the  North," 
said  the  planter.  "  There  is  too  much  guess-work 
in  the  world  now.  If  people  knew  more,  and  guessed 
less,  they  would  be  wiser.  It  is  natural  for  the  Yan- 
kees to  guess." 

The  conversation  ceased,  and  the  old  gentleman  took 
a  walk  along  the  shore;  and,  as  he  watched  the  rip- 
pling waves,  his  mind  wandered  away  to  Medora,  be- 
cause she  had  so  often  said  that  wind  and  water,  in 
some  way,  would  cause  her  trouble. 

"We  will  say  no  more  about  the  family  in  Virginia 
just  now,  but  turn  our  eyes  toward  the  convent  at 
Mount  St.  Vincent,  and  see  what  has  become  of  the 
heroine  of  this  story. 

Oh  !  dear  ;  she  is  sick.  Sister  Josephine  is  her  at- 
tendant. Now  she  thinks  of  her  mother,  and  the  kind 
Lucinda,  who  were  always  beside  her  bed  when  she 
was  ill ;  but  she  must  bear  the  loss  of  friends  and  ser- 
vants. Soon  a  beautiful  little  daughter  is  born ;  her 
eyes  and  hair  are  like  her  mother's.  The  kind  nuns 
come  around,  to  sympathize  and  pray  their  usual 
prayers.  Medora  has  been  for  months  brooding  over 
this  moment,  and  a  mere  wreck  of  a  woman  was  to  be 
seen.  No  wonder  Lucinda  saw  her  looking  so  badly, 
if  the  girl  really  beheld  her  spirit. 

A  heart  that  is  stricken  with   such  trouble  suffers 


THE    MIDNIGHT   VISION.  161 

more,  in  our  opinion,  than  one  could  in  any  other  sit- 
uation on  earth.  To  be  deceived  in  love  is,  in  any 
way,  death  itself.  But  Medora  Palmore  must  endure 
her  misfortunes. 

The  babe  was  handed  to  her;  she  kissed  it  and  wept, 
and  said  : 

"  Poor,  little  unfortunate  soul !  No  loving  father, 
and  only  the  shadow  of  a  mother ! " 

Then  the  tears  poured  from  her  eyes,  as  if  her  heart 
would  break;  and  a  whisper  was  heard,  as  though  a 
prayer  Avere  offered.  She  pressed  the  infant  to  her 
breast,  and  fell  into  a  swoon. 

Reader,  no  doubt  she  beheld  in  imagination  the  fa- 
ther of  the  babe,  drowning,  struggling  for  breath.  In 
a  few  moments  she  revived;  the  infant  was  removed, 
and  she  became  more  composed.  The  lady  Superior 
paid  her  good  attention,  and  the  feeble  woman  recov- 
ered much  faster  than  one  might  have  supposed.  The 
kindness  of  the  nuns  and  the  priest  had  a  great  in- 
fluence on  the  mind  of  Medora.  She  had  always  heard 
so  many  horrid  stories  about  the  Catholics,  that,  like 
many  others,  she  thought  them  a  wicked  set  of  peo- 
ple. But  she  proved  to  the  contrary,  during  her  stay 
in  the  convent.  She  had  been  educated  in  the  Baptist 
faith,  and  never  expected  to  see  the  inside  of  the 
walls  of  a  monastery.  But  she  was  agreeably  disap- 
pointed. She  was  well  nursed  and  kindly  treated;  the 
co n sequence  was,  she  almost  became  one  of  them. 

Weeks  rolled  slowly  by.  The  young  mother  im- 
proved rapidly.  It  would  seem  that  the  most  acute 


162  THE  CRIMSOX  STAR;  OR, 

Buffeting  can  be  endured,  and  even  cured.  It  is  almost 
impossible  to  believe  that  this  tender  flower  could  have 
borne  so  many  storms  through  which  she  passed.  Al- 
though blighted  and  withered,  she  was  not  destroyed  ; 
yet  that  dream  and  its  reality  often  came  to  her  mind. 
Oh !  that  crimson  star,  and  that  bloody  hand. 

When  the  infant  was  about  three  months  old,  Mrs. 
Maria  Bruster  visited  the  convent,  and  found  a  change 
in  things  in  general ;  but  yet  her  sympathies  were  ex- 
cited for  Medora.  She  brought  her  little  son  with 
her. 

Medora  was  delighted  to  see  them.  When  Mrs. 
Bruster  beheld  the  babe,  she  wept,  for  it  very  much 
resembled  her  husband.  She  told  her  little  boy  that 
he  now  had  a  sister.  The  little  fellow  must  have 
wondered  how  his  sister  came  to  be  found  in  the  con- 
vent of  St.  Vincent;  but,  as  he  was  small,  we  sup- 
pose he  did  not  think  much  about  it.  Mrs.  Bruster 
then  spoke  of  Thomas,  the  servant,  who,  she  said, 
had  called  upon  her  "  to  ascertain  the  whereabouts  of 
the  lady  who  was  on  board  the  yacht  when  her  hus- 
band was  drowned.  The  gentleman,"  said  Tommy, 
"  who  was  also  on  board  on  that  day,  has  desired  me 
to  ascertain,  if  possible,  where  she  now  is." 

"  He  means  you,  of  course,"  said  Mrs.  Bruster,  to 
Medora.  "  Shall  I  reveal  to  him  where  you  are  ?  I 
have  heard  the  history  from  a  druggist  near  our  town, 
and,  my  dear  girl,  you  have  my  sympathies." 

"  No,"  said  Medora ;  "  there  is  no  necessity  for 
Thomas  to  know  my  whereabouts,  or  any  one  else — un- 


THE    MIDNIGHT   VISION.  163 

less  I  could  inform  my  dear  parents ;  but  that  I  dislike 
to  do  just  now." 

"  No,"  said  Mrs.  Bruster,  "  there  is  no  necessity  for 
making  them  unhappy.  Therefore,  wait  with  patience. 
You  could  not  have  entered  the  convent  unless  you 
had  promised  to  remain  a  twelvemonth." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  Medora,  "  and  I  will  remain 
during  that  time  ;  and,  perhaps,  for  life." 

As  the  babe  lay  in  the  lap  of  the  young  mother, 
Mrs.  Bruster  watched  it  closely.  "  What  do  you  intend 
calling  your  babe  ?  "  asked  she. 

"  Well,  I  do  not  know,"  replied  Medora.  "  If  it  has 
no  name  for  years,  it  makes  no  difference — poor,  un- 
fortunate child." 

"  She  is  a  little  beauty,  and  she  should  be  named. 
Suppose  you  permit  me  to  name  her ;  and,  should  I 
lose  my  child,  she  shall  become  my  heir,  as  I  have  no 
near  relatives,  only  one  sister,  and  she  is  wealthy." 

"  Well,"  said  Medora,  "  if  you  desire  to  name  her, 
you  can  do  so,  whether  you  give  her  anything  or 
not." 

"  I  shall  call  her  Ida  Blanche,  then,"  said  Mrs.  Brus- 
ter, and  kissed  the  babe.  She  took  her  departure 
after  having  given  the  mother  some  affectionate  ad- 
vice. 


164  THE    CKIMSON   STAE  J    OB, 


CHAPTER  X. 
MEDOKA'S  ESCAPE  FROM  THE  CONVENT. 

morning,  Mrs.  Bruster,  as  she  stood  in 
the  doorway,  was  approached  by  a  stranger, 
who  bowed  very  politely.  She  returned  it, 
of  course.  He  then  said  to  her:  "Madame,  will  you 
oblige  me  by  informing  me  where  the  lady  now  resides, 
who  was  on  board  the  yacht  when  the  gentleman  who 
formerly  owned  this  farm  was  drowned?  I  under- 
stand from  Thomas,  a  former  servant  here,  that  you 
have  seen  the  lady  in  question — lately  seen  her;  and, 
by  informing  me  of  her  whereabouts,  you  would  confer 
an  inestimable  favor." 

"  Are  you  a  relation  of  the  lady  ?  "  inquired  Mrs. 
Bruster. 

"No,  madame;  but  I  am  her  friend?' 

"I  had  rather  not  give  you  the  information  that  you 
desire,  sir ;  but  you  can  ascertain  her  whereabouts  by 
visiting  Mount — " 

She  then  paused  a  moment.  "  Sir,  if  you  please,  I 
cannot  inform  you."  The  young  man  thanked  her  for 
even  that  much  light  upon  the  subject.  Ho  bowed  and 
left.  He  heard  the  word  "  mount,"  and  had  heard  of  a 
certain  convent,  and  did  not  know  what  mount.  He 


THE   MIDNIGHT   VISION.  165 

knew  it  might  be  Mount  Holyoke,  or  Chimborazo,  as 
they  called  it.  Yet  he  remembered  that  there  was  a 
convent  there.  The  thought  that  Medora  must  be 
there  seemed  to  strike  him  with  a  great  deal  of  force. 
The  young  man  was  no  other  than  the  artist.  He  had 
passed  many  unhappy  moments  in  thoughts  of  her. 
He  often  wondered  where  she  could  have  concealed 
herself.  Some  months  had  flown,  and  brought  no 
tidings  of  her  whom  he  had  so  dearly  loved.  Her  por- 
trait was  all  the  comfort  he  had.  He  thought  strangely 
that  she  did  not  recognize  him.  We  must  not  peep 
into  the  future;  yet  we  know  he  hoped  he  should  find 
her.  He  knew  there  was  a  convent  up  the  Hudson, 
and  he  would  try  some  means  to  reach  it;  and,  if  there 
was  no  such  person,  he  would  start  for  some  other 
mount.  He  would  trace  the  world  over  to  find  her — 
the  only  woman  he  ever  loved. 

As  he  left,  he  wandered  to  the  steamboat,  to  go  up 
the  Hudson.  When  he  arrived  at  his  journey's  end, 
he  saw  the  convent. 

"  There,"  said  he,  "  she  is  gone  from  me  forever. 
That  building  denotes  her  confinement  for  life  ;  that 
is  Mount  St.  Vincent.  That  is  what  the  lady  meant 
when  she  said  'Mount — 'and  said  no  more.  "But 
oh !  perhaps  she  is  a  mother  long  before  this ; 
but  what  care  I  for  that?  Oh!  could  I  but  see  her 
once  more,  I  should  be  most  happy,"  said  the  artist, 
as  he  gazed  upon  the  walls  of  the  convent  which  he 
supposed  contained  the  object  of  his  affection. 

He  stood  and  sketched  the  nunnery ;  and  a  more 


166  THE    CRIMSON   STAR;    OR, 

beautiful  scene  was  never  beheld.  Then  he  turned 
away  from  a  place  which  gave  him  pain  and  pleasure 
at  the  same  moment.  Delancy  made  his  way  home; 
but  no  rest  to  a  heart  that  loved,  when  he  knew  she 
did  not  recognize  him. 

He  often  wandered  in  the  direction  of  the  place 
where  he  had  often  beheld  her.  The  garden  arbor 
was  visited  by  the  artist.  He  could  be  seen  once 
in  two  or  three  weeks,  regularly,  standing  gazing  into 
the  garden  as  though  he  watched  for  some  one. 

Spring  had  come  again.  The  grape-vine  was  shoot- 
ing its  green  tendrils  over  the  arbor  where  the  belle  of 
the  South  often  sat  when  she  first  came  North.  Dur- 
ing the  first  summer,  she  believed  herself  the  true  wife 
of  Kalph  Bruster;  and  at  times  he  would  walk  Avith 
her  in  the  garden,  sit  beneath  the  vines,  and,  although 
she  did  not  love  him  with  the  wild  enthusiastic  passion 
with  which  some  love,  she  respected  and  liked  him. 
She  knew  not  then  that  a  venomous  reptile  lay  en- 
twined in  the  shape  of  a  man.  But  the  reader  has 
seen  his  career  and  his  end. 

We  say  that  the  first  the  artist  saw  of  Medora  Pal- 
more  in  the  North  was  at  her  house,  and  painted  her 
portrait.  He  then  saw  her  in  the  arbor,  and  the  sight 
of  so  beautiful  a  woman  was  printed  indelibly  on  his 
mind — her  face,  her  tall,  majestic  figure,  her  sweet  and 
amiable  smile.  Her  first  appearance  was  never  obliter- 
ated from  his  mind ;  he  was  young  and  passionate,  and 
one  who  loved  and  made  no  pretense. 

But  she  is  now  lost  to  him.     He  wanders  the  fields ; 


THE    MIDNIGHT   VISION.  167 

he  traverses  the  meadows  ;  he  ascends  mountains  ;  he 
travels  through  valleys — but  no  sight,  no  sound  of  her 
name.  She  lives  as  though  she  were  dead  to  him. 
Oh !  how  wretched  is  the  heart  that  vainly  seeks  its 
treasure,  its  idol ;  but  often  it  is  lost,  lost  to  us  forever. 
Few  are  there  in  the  world  who  find  the  invaluable 
treasure.  The  one  who  loves  another  with  a  pure  and 
platonic  affection  is  a  diamond  of  the  first  water.  And 
is  the  artist  the  affinity  of  the  lady  who  is  now  in  the 
convent?  That  remains  to  be  seen. 

Oh,  Medora ! 

There  are  many  people  who  search  for  different 
things  and  certain  persons;  but,  in  some  cases,  they 
are  never  brought  to  light.  Sir  John  Franklin  started 
in  search  of  another  continent,  but  he  has  never  been 
heard  of  since ;  or,  rather,  nothing  very  favorable  of 
his  adventures.  And  we  know  that  these  things 
occur.  Tourists  are  often  unfortunate  in  their  adven- 
tures; therefore,  if  the  artist  shall  be  so  blest  as  to 
find  the  lady  of  whom  he  is  in  search,  we  seriously 
hope  that  she  may  prove  genuine.  If  she  should  re- 
ciprocate the  love  of  such  an  ardent  youth,  surely  they 
would  be  as  happy  as  Adam  and  Eve  in  the  garden  of 
Eden.  But,  as  yet,  we  see  little  prospect  of  the  French- 
man finding  the  nun.  We  will  leave  him  searching 
rapidly,  and  see  how  Medora  progresses. 

She  is  looking  much  better ;  her  spirits  are  reviving. 
Sisters  Jacqueline  and  Josephine  are  her  room-com- 
panions. They  are  women  of  refinement  and  educa- 
tion, such  as  could  sympathize  with  a  wounded  heart. 


168  THE   CRIMSON   STAR;    OR, 

Such  persons  are  treasures,  and  a  blessing  to  the 
world,  in  or  out  of  the  convent.  The  Superior  was 
also  a  very  fine  woman,  but  quite  a  different  tempera- 
ment from  Madame  Bruster ;  she  appeared  to  sympa- 
thize with  the  Protestant  sister.  Medora  enjoyed  the 
Catholic  worship  very  much.  Their  faith  is  said  to  be 
very  strong. 

Christ  has  said:  "  If  ye  have  faith,  ye  could  remove 
mountains  ;  and  if  ye  have  faith,  and  say  to  the  syca- 
more tree,  be  thou  plucked  up  and  planted  into  the 
sea,  it  would  obey." 

This  is-why  many  churches  are  so  feeble.  They  need 
faith.  But  Medora  Palmore  saw  the  power  of  faith  in 
many,  instances,  while  she  was  within  the  convent 
walls.  She  was  strengthened  in  her  religion  by  seeing 
the  nuns  exercise  so  much  faith  in  Christ,  the  Vir- 
gin Mary,  St.  Peter,  St.  Paul,  and  many  other  saints. 
She  was  led  to  believe  that  these  pious  men  and  wom- 
en, who  had  been  upright  on  earth,  and  had  passed 
into  spirit-life,  must  have  more  power  in  the  future 
state  than  she  had  before  imagined. 

The  prayers  she  offered  were  answered ;  their  influ- 
ence was  felt ;  the  atmosphere  in  which  they  breathed 
was  thrown  around  her,  and  she  became  more  hap- 
py, more  spiritual,  more  holy.  When  the  carnal  is 
absorbed  in  spiritual  things,  then  the  soul  becomes 
tranquil,  and  more  prepared  for  association  with  those 
who  have  passed  into  another  state  of  existence. 

Medora  was  happy  as  we  could  expect,  and  even 
more  so  than  many  would  have  been.  She  knew  that 


THE   MIDNIGHT  VISION.  169 

the  roaring  cannon  was  heard,  and  glittering  swords 
were  unsheathed  on  the  soil  that  gave  her  birth  ;  and 
she  also  knew  that  her  only  brother  was  engaged  in 
the  mighty  conflict;  and,  although  at  a  future  day 
she  might  reach  her  home,  her  dearest  friends  might 
all  be  consigned  to  the  silent  dust,  and  Edge  Hill  for- 
ever desolated. 

Our  heroine  had  rushed  to  the  convent  of  St.  Vin- 
cent to  secrete  herself  from  the  world,  as  her  troubles 
were  almost  unendurable. 

We  do  not  wonder  that  her  drooping  spirits  began 
to  revive ;  for  we  feel  quite  sure  that  it  was  not  a 
crime  to  rescue  herself  from  a  watery  grave ;  she  could 
not  have  much  compunction  of  conscience.  *  The 
reader  has  seen  the  clandestine  movements  of  the  hero 
of  this  story.  They  have  also  seen  the  meek  and 
quiet  manner  in  which  Medora  bore  her  misfortunes. 

She  was  flattered  and  won  by  an  old  man,  who  had 
deceived  her ;  and  was  partially  engaged  to  another, 
who  was  in  France  at  the  time.  She  had  loved  the 
young  man ;  but  it  seems  that  he  had  become  more 
interested  in  his  studies  than  in  her,  and  she  had  be- 
come a  little  piqued,  and  married  the  wealthy  New 
York  lawyer. 

We  have  seen  the  last  attempt  to  murder  her.  Now, 
who  that  possesses  a  heart  could  blame  the  innocent 
girl,  when  encouraged  by  her  mother  to  forget  her 
first  love,  and  marry  the  legal  adviser  whose  jealous 
disposition  drove  him  to  destruction  ?  He  had  accused 
the  Virginia  girl  of  infidelity,  which  was  as  false  as 
8 


170  THE   CRIMSON  STAR;    OR, 

his  own  heart.  The  artist  loved  her,  it  is  true;  but 
where  and  when  had  they  ever  met  ?  this  is  the  enigma 
which  must  be  solved.  She  had  not  encouraged  his 
passion  in  the  least,  although  she  was  aware  of  its  ex- 
istence. 

How  many  females  have  we  in  these  days,  who,  un- 
der the  same  circumstances,  would  have  acted  as  Me- 
dora  Palmore  ?  There  are  but  few,  is  the  opinion  of 
the  writer.  We  see  and  hear  of  false  wives  very  often, 
even  when  they  have  kind  husbands.  But  this  young 
lady  knew  that  she  was  not  a  wife,  after  she  found  that 
letter;  yet  she  tried  to  believe  herself  the  true  wife, 
and  Maria  the  deceived  one ;  but  she  soon  found  her- 
self a  deserted  woman,  just  as  poor  Charlotte  Temple. 

But  the  artist  was  not  a  Montravil,  nor  a  Belchor. 
Treachery  and  villainy  was  not  in  his  heart.  He  loved 
Medora  with  a  pure  and  ardent  affection ;  yet  he  con- 
cealed his  feelings  as  much  as  possible.  If  he  had 
made  any  advances,  he  would  have  surely  been  re- 
pulsed, although  she  suspected  that  she  was  not  a 
wife,  but  had  been  duped  by  a  villain.  She  felt  con- 
scientious in  such  things,  and  believed  it  to  be  her 
duty  to  be  constant  even  to  the  man  who  had  betrayed 
her.  How  few  Medoras  have  we  in  this  age ! 

There  are  a  class  of  brainless  nonentities,  who  really 
believe  that  all  women  only  need  an  opportunity  to  be 
false.  "We  feel  truly  sorry  for  such  a  class  of  ignorant 
mortals.  "We  sympathize  with  such  as  have  so  little 
knowledge  of  the  female  character. 

Thank  God,  there  is  another  class  of  observers  of 


THE   MIDNIGHT  VISION.  171 

human  nature.  There  are  men  who  know  and  be- 
lieve women  to  be  truly  virtuous  from  principle,  and 
not  because  they  have  never  been  tempted.  It  must 
be  a  very  ordinary  woman  who,  if  she  is  thrown  into 
the  world  to  obtain  a  livelihood,  does  not  have  some 
such  trouble  to  combat  with.  But  the  city  which 
stands  after  being  besieged  is  the  one  of  courage  and 
strength.  So  it  is  with  women.  When  we  hear  females 
boasting  of  their  good  names,  we  are  led  to  wonder  if 
the  pure,  angelic  creatures  had  ever  passed  through 
the  temptations  of  others  of  their  sex,  and  remained 
pure.  Then  we  would  admit  that  they  were  stainless. 
But  we  often  fear  there  are  many  like  queen  Bess,  as 
jealous  of  their  superiors  as  she  was  of  her  beautiful 
cousin,  Mary  Stuart. 

But,  perhaps,  those  very  individuals  who  have  often 
been  heard  to  boast  of  their  purity,  were  some  home- 
ly maiden  or  widow  who  had  never  left  the  smoke  of 
her  father's  or  husband's  chimney.  We  do  not  won- 
der that  such  ladies  are  virtuous,  for  they  could  not 
well  be  otherwise. 

We  have  often  contended  that  a  city  must  be  be- 
sieged and  stand  the  storm ;  then,  if  it  does  not  sur- 
render to  the  enemy,  but  drives  them  back,  that  city 
is  substantial. 

The  heroine  of  our  story  has  something  of  which 
to  boast. 

Tli us  it  was:  she  knew  that  the  artist  loved  her, 
but  she  evaded  his  compliments,  and  shunned  every- 
thing which  might  lead  him  to  think  of  her  only  as  a 


172  THE    CRIMSON   STAR;    OE, 

friend.  She  was  young  and  beautiful,  forsaken,  and 
wretched  as  woman  could  be,  when  the  handsome 
artist  came  to  her  house  for  the  purpose  of  painting 
her  picture.  She  knew  that  he  admired  and  loved 
her.  She  also  wondered  who  he  was,  and  thought 
strangely  of  him.  But  here  was  woman's  conscience; 
here  was  woman's  virtue,  that  is  so  often  abused  by 
the  opposite  sex. 

The  artist  dropped  a  few  affectionate  words  inadver- 
tently, and  Medora  could  have  reciprocated  his  passion 
with  all  the  fervor  of  woman;  but  her  education  and 
conscience  taught  her  differently.  She  shrank  from 
the  man  whom  she  could  have  adored. 

Oh,  Medora !  could  you  have  known  all,  and  who 
this  handsome  adorer  was,  and  what  it  was  that  first 
induced  him  to  take  his  pencil,  brush,  and  easel — but 
we  dare  not  say  more. 

Eeader,  was  not  here  self-sacrifice?  And  we  believe 
that  there  are  many  just  such  conscientious  women  in 
the  world.  Medora  Palmore  is  not  the  only  woman 
who  has  loved,  has  conquered  her  passion,  and  pre- 
served her  purity.  This  is  almost  the  first  lesson  that 
young  ladies  are  taught  in  Virginia— to  retain  their 
virtue,  if  they  lose  their  lives. 

She  is  still  in  the  convent.  She  dreams  of 
her  childhood.  The  beauties  of  the  Rappahannock 
and  the  day  of  her  false  marriage  were  never  out  of 
her  mind.  Ida  Carter,  and  the  novel  called  "  Celia's 
First  Love,"  often  came  before  her.  The  laugh  of  Ida 
sounded  through  her  ear,  as  she  said:  "Well,  upon 


THE   MIDNIGHT  VISION.  173 

my  word,  the  heroine  of  this  story  falls  in  love  and  is 
going  to  elope  with  a  fellow." 

!She  remembered  the  beautiful  language  of  Belle 
Meredith,  as  she  chided  Ida  for  talking  over  such 
things  in  the  chamber  of  a  bride,  and  gave  such  an 
elaborate  description  of  virtue.  Medora  never  forgot 
these  things,  and . often  prayed  to  see  Edge  Hill  and 
her  schoolmates  again,  and  to  be  restored  to  honor 
and  peace  once  more.  Christ  has  said,  "  Whatever  ye 
ask  in  my  name,  ask  in  faith,  nothing  doubting,  and 
ye  shall  receive." 

The  Virginia  girl  had  learned  to  exercise  faith,  and 
she  really  believed  that  the  Almighty  would  aid  her  in 
reaching  her  friends,  and  that  she  w.ould  again  be 
happily  restored  to  all  that  she  had  been  so  basely  torn 
from. 

Oh!  why  cannot  we  exercise  faith  ?  It  is  the  duty 
of  all  mankind.  Our  heroine  should  be  an  example, 
if  she  is  within  the  walls  of  a  convent. 

Her  infant  grows  rapidly.  It  is  beautiful.  It 
attracts  the  love  and  admiration  of  the  sisters,  and 
even  the  priest  became  infatuated  with  the  little  dar- 
ling. Medora  was  delighted  to  see  her  sister  nuns 
take  such  an  interest  in  her  babe.  She  was  devoted  to 
ther  child,  and  every  mother  becomes  interested  in 
those  who  love  her  children. 

Mrs.  Maria  Bruster  lost  her  son,  and  her  heart  was 
almost  broken.  After  recovering  from  her  trouble,  she 
visited  the  convent,  and  appeared  much  attached  to 
the  pretty  and  interesting  Ida. 


174  THE   CRIMSON   STAB  J    OR. 

"Now,"  said  Mrs.  Bruster,  "I  suppose  that  this  lit- 
tle creature  must  be  my  heiress.  She,  at  some  day, 
may  be  in  possession  of  all  I  am  worth." 

"  Perhaps  you  may  re-marry,"  said  Medora. 

"No;  I  have  suffered  enough,  and  heaven  knows  I 
never  wish  to  wed  again." 

Medora  smiled,  saying: 

"  Well,  perhaps  my  infant  will  be  fortunate,  after 
all." 

"Yes,"  replied  the  lady  by  whom  the  child  had 
been  named,  "  I  hope  both  mother  and  child  may  yet 
be  happy." 

"  Perhaps  so,"  said  Medora,  the  tears  starting  to  her 
eyes. 

Mrs.  Bruster  kissed  her,  and  left  the  convent. 

The  twelvemonth  is  nearly  up,  and  the  Virginia 
girl  is  thinking  of  taking  the  veil,  and  remaining  for 
life  in  the  monastery.  She  now  believes  that  her  babe 
has  met  a  mother  in  the  wife  of  Ralph  Bruster;  and 
she  knows  not  that  the  artist  is  rambling  in  every 
direction,  like  poor  Werter,  who  shot  himself  on 
account  of  Charlotte.  Our  heroine  thought  she  had 
oetter  become  a  nun  than  go  into  the  world  again  and 
perhaps  fall  into  trouble.  She  dreaded  to  impart  the 
secret  of  her  troubles  to  her  parents  or  to  any  of  her 
schoolmates. 


THE  MIDNIGHT   VISION.  175 


CHAPTER  XI. 

MAERIED  TO   HEE  FIEST  LOVER. 

'ENRI  Delancy  had  become  almost  wild. 
Twelve  months  had  nearly  elapsed,  and  he 
had  never  heard  a  word,  only  "  Go  up  to 
Mount — "  and  he  did  go  up,  but  no  satisfac- 
tion could  he  gain. 

Her  portrait  had  been  wept  over;  many  times  had 
his  lips  pressed  the  inanimate  canvas. 

"  Oh !  "  thought  the  ardent  youth,  "I  would  to  God 
that  I  could  once  more  behold  the  original  of  this 
painting — that  I  could  now  tell  her  what  I  have  suf- 
fered on  her  account  since  the  last  moment  we  parted 
at  her  door.  But  alas!  poor  girl,  I  fear  that  she  is 
lost  to  me  forever  ;  and  to  her  family.  She  must  be 
dead,  or  in  the  convent  of  St.  Vincent.  If  the  latter  is 
true,  she  might  as  well  be  under  the  marble,  for  all  the 
happiness  that  I  shall  ever  derive  from  her  society. 
But  oli!  Medora,  Medora,  why  did  you  rush  into  a  con- 
vent ?  Why  did  you  leave  one  who  would  have  loved 
you  forever  ?  Yes,  as  long  as  this  heart  continued  to 
beat,  Delancy  would  have  loved  and  cherished  her  who 
excited  his  first  fancy." 

The  young  man  was  wandering  on  the  Hudson  in 


176  THE    CRIMSON   STAR;    OR, 

the  same  direction  whence  he  had  overheard  the  plot 
between  Bruster  and  his  servant,  when  a  thought  struck 
his  mind  with  great  force. 

The  dull  season  of  winter  had  passed,  the  showers  of 
spring  had  fallen  on  the  earth,  and  vegetation  was 
budding  forth  beautifully. 

He  longed  to  fall  at  her  feet  and  tell  her  all ;  he 
desired  no  longer  to  deceive  her;  his  heart  was  burn- 
ing to  pour  forth  its  adoration  and  unveil  its  secrets 
to  her.  He  felt  that  he  had  done  wrong  in  one  thing, 
that  he  had  not  opened  his  heart  and  concealed  noth- 
ing on  that  fatal  night  of  the  tragedy,  when  he 
parted  from  her  at  her  own  door.  He  squeezed  her 
hand,  but  dared  not  speak.  He  often  reproached  him- 
self; yet  something  seemed  to  say  to  the  artist,  "  Go 
up  the  river  to  Mount  St.  Vincent,  and  you  will  find  a 
sketch  worth  painting."  He  at  first  did  not  move,  but 
continued  to  use  his  pencil  in  drawing  some  little 
scenery  which  had  struck  his  fancy.  A  moment  after, 
his  pencil  fell  from  his  hand,  and  a  voice  appeared  to 
say,  "  Go  where  you  are  bidden."  He  turned  around, 
and  was  in  the  act  of  starting  in  some  direction,  when 
the  command  of  Jonah  came  into  his  mind.  The 
words  sounded  near  by:  "Go  and  say  to  Nineveh 
'  Forty  days  and  Nineveh  shall  be  destroyed.' " 

"  I  will  go,"  said  Delancy,  "  let  the  consequences  be 
what  they  may;  for,  if  I  disobey  this  unknown  warn- 
ing, misery  may  follow  me  all  the  days  of  my  life.  If  I 
obey,  Nineveh  may  be  saved,  and  I  may  eiijoy  a  happy 
existence.  I  will  obey  this  secret  call.  I  do  not  see  any 


THE    MIDNIGHT   VISION.  177 

one ;  but  there  evidently  is  some  one  near  me,  who  sees 
further  into  the  future  than  I  do,  and  wishes  to  aid 
me." 

He  hurried  off,  and  started  up  the  river  to  Mount 
St.  Vincent.  A  pleasant  sail  in  the  steamer  soon 
bore  him  to  the  desired  haven  of  rest.  As  soon  as  he 
set  eyes  on  the  convent  he  felt  relieved.  He  had 
looked  upon  the  building  with  horror;  but  now  it  ap- 
peared differently  to  him.  He  approached  the  spot. 
" Now,"  thought  he,  "  what  am  I  to  do  here? " 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon — a  time  taken  by  the 
nuns  for  a  promenade  in  the  garden.  The  sisters  gen- 
erally walk  with  them,  but  their  eyes  are  not  always 
upon  every  girl.  This  Delancy  knew  from  reading 
about  the  Catholics.  As  he  stood  and  watched  the 
building,  a  thought  came  into  his  mind:  it  was  to 
ascend  the  convent  wall,  if  possible,  and  try  to  obtain 
a  glimpse  of  a  human  face.  But  how  was  it  to  be  done  ? 
He  could  not  imagine  at  first.  It  is  a  tremendous 
edifice.  Surely,  any  one  would  risk  his  life  to  attempt 
to  ascend  those  walls.  At  length,  it  occurred  to  him  to 
obtain  a  ladder,  were  one  obtainable.  He  looked  in 
every  direction,  but  no  ladder  presented  itself  to  his 
vision.  He  turned  around  almost  frantic.  He  felt 
that  Medora  was  then  in  the  building,  and,  if  he  did 
not  see  her  in  a  few  days,  that  all  was  over  for  life.  He 
made  up  his  mind  to  succeed  in  seeing  her  at  the  point 
of  death. 

"Although  it  costs  my  life,  it  is  death  without  her. 
I  will  ascend  that  wall  in  some  way."  Then,  turning 


178  THE    CRIMSON    STAB;    OR, 

his  head  in  a  different  direction,  he  beheld  the  wished- 
for  ladder.  It  reminded  him  of  Jacob's,  which  reached 
from  earth  to  heaven.  It  was  placed  there  in  case  of 
fire.  With  one  step,  almost,  he  reached  the  spot,  and 
asked  the  oAvner  for  the  use  of  this  article  for  a  little 
while.  She  was  a  lady,  and  she  consented.  The  young 
man  had  only  handled  pencil  and  paper  all  his  life, 
except,  a  while,  powder  and  ball;  and  she  must  not 
suppose  him  a  Samson.  But  ah !  what  is  it  that  love 
cannot  do  ?  Delilah — Delilah  was  at  heart !  and  he 
caught  the  ladder  in  his  arms,  dragged  it  to  the  nun- 
nery, and  placed  it  against  the  walls.  He  stood  and 
gazed  upon  the  steep  walls  of  the  building  for  a  mo- 
ment, as  if  he  was  meditating  the  consequence  of  a 
fall ;  but  in  an  instant  more  he  sprang  forward,  with  as 
much  agility  as  Crassus  did  when  he  dashed  his  horse 
through  the  Parthian  army.  The  thought  of  the  artist 
was  the  same  as  that  of  the  heroic  Eoman — "  If  the 
Parthians  slay  me,  I  will  die  for  thee,  Some."  Neither 
the  rugged  chain  of  mountains,  nor  the  supplications 
of  Octavius,  deterred  the  Eoman  commander  from 
doing  what  he  believed  to  be  his  duty ;  and,  although 
he  was  slain  by  the  barbarians,  he  died  in  honor  of 
his  country.  "  For  thee,  Medora,"  the  artist  exclaimed, 
"  I  will  likewise  die ; "  and,  with  the  rapidity  of  a 
squirrel,  Delancy  ascended  the  ladder — the  brave  Cras- 
sus for  a  moment. 

"There  never  was  a  victory  gained,"  thought  he, 
"  without  some  defeat."  As  he  reached  the  top  of  the 
ladder,  he  could  see  the  windows  of  the  nunnery. 


THE    MIDNIGHT   VISION.  179 

The  garden  beneath  looked  beautiful.  Some  of  the 
flowers  were  just  closing  their  petals.  The  air  seemed 
impregnated  with  fragrance.  "  I  will  sketch  the  scene," 
thought  he.  Having  pencil  and  paper  in  hand,  he 
sketched  the  nunnery  from  the  top  of  the  wall.  After 
he  had  finished,  he  thought  to  himself,  "  Is  this  all  for 
which  I  came  ?  Am  I  to  be  disappointed  ?  Is  there  not 
a  glimpse  to  be  had  of  the  sweet  face  which  I  believe 
to  be  immured  within  these  walls  ?  " 

As  he  was  in  the  act  of  turning  around  to  descend 
the  ladder,  for  fear  he  might  be  seen,  he  beheld  a  fe- 
male come  to  the  window.  His  heart  beat  Avith  joy. 
"Ah!"  said  he  to  himself,  "perhaps  I  may  see  the  face 
of  the  one  I  adore." 

He  waited  with  a  palpitating  heart.  Directly,  an- 
other young  lady  came  and  leaned  upon  the  shoulder 
of  her  friend,  as  though  she  loved  her.  She  was  tall, 
and  thin,  and  pale;  but  she  looked  heavenly  as  she 
raised  her  eyes  to  the  skies,  and  appeared  to  move  her 
lips.  The  artist  sat  motionless  for  a  few  moments; 
then,  in  an  instant  more,  the  beautiful  face  of  Medora 
appeared  beside  those  of  the  young  ladies,  and  in  her 
arms  she  clasped  an  infant. 

"  0  God ! "'  said  the  artist,  "  there  she  is."  He 
grasped  the  ladder  tightly,  or  in  his  agitation  he  would 
have  fallen.  His  heart  beat  vehemently;  his  blood 
almost  ran  cold;  a  chilling  sensation  pervaded  his 
body,  and  he  felt  as  though  he  would  fall.  "  I  am  gone 
now,"  he  whispered  ;  but  held  on  with  all  the  strength 
he  possessed. 


180  THE    CRIMSON    STAR;    OR, 

"I  have  seen  her  once  more,  thank  God!" 

He  then  seemed  to  revive,  and  his  courage  returned. 
He  gazed  wistfully  into  her  face.  She  had  on  a  light 
wrapper,  and  her  hair  still  hung  in  ringlets  around 
her  shoulders ;  and  her  lips  parted  Avith  a  sweet  smile, 
as  she  stood  and  let  the  babe  play  at  the  window. 

"  Oh!  what  shall  I  do?"  thought  Delancy,  "to  at- 
tract her  attention  for  a  moment." 

Taking  out  pencil  and  paper,  he  hurriedly  wrote  a  few 
lines.  Perhaps  the  reader  would  like  to  see  what  they 
were.  A  queer  place  from  whence  to  date  a  love-letter, 
certainly;  but  he  cared  not  for  place  and  circum- 
stances; therefore  he  wrote  from  the  top  of  the  ladder. 

THE    HANDWRITING   ON   THE   WALL. 

"ST.  VINCENT. 

"  I  write  you,  my  dearest  and  most  beloved  of  all  on 
earth,  from  the  top  of  the  ladder. 

"  0  Medora,  dear  Medora !  I  deceived  you  in  re- 
gard to  my  identity;  but  it  was  in  order  to  see  you, 
and  to  be  near  you,  that  I  assumed  this  name.  Permit 
me,  dearest,  to  explain  all,  as  this  is  the  last  time  I 
shall  see  you,  unless  you  listen  to  my  plea. 

"  I  am  Eugene  Appomore,  your  long  lost  and  absent 
lover ;  but  never  have  I  ceased  to  think  of  you  a  mo- 
ment, through  all  these  long  years  of  strife.  Now  I 
will  make  an  attempt  to  give  you  an  idea  of  my  ab- 
sence, and  my  suffering  since  we  parted. 

"  I  passed  through  my  collegiate  course  in  France, 
and  graduated  with  high  honors.  I  became  fascinated 


THE   MIDNIGHT   VISION.  181 

with  my  pencil  and  brush ;  therefore,  I  thought  I 
would  stay  awhile,  and  visit  Italy,  to  see  the  finest 
scenery  in  world. 

"I  had  written  you  several  letters,  which  I  never 
received  an  answer  to ;  then  I  made  up  my  mind  to 
sail  for  the  United  States;  but  the  war  was  in  full 
blast,  and  all  communications  cut  off,  or  I  should  have 
written  you  immediately. 

"  I  came  to  New  York  (intending  to  fight  for  the 
Southern  States),  and  ran  the  blockade  to  Charleston; 
was  captured,  and  thrown  into  prison  for  over  a  year. 

"  Dear  Medora,  I  suffered  very  acutely.  I  lay  on  the 
bare  planks  of  the  cold  floor,  with  one  blanket  over 
me;  and  my  food  was  coarse,  such  as  I  could  hardly 
swallow.  But,  in  all  this  suffering,  you  were  never 
out  of  my  mind,  dear  girl.  After  this,  I  was  draft- 
ed into  the  Northern  army,  and  was  compelled  to 
light  against  the  South.  It  is  true,  I  was  pro- 
moted to  a  colonel — gained  reputation;  but  honor 
sinks  into  nothingness  without  you,  dear  one.  But 
now  that  this  bloody  war  is  over,  and  the  North 
and  South  are  friends  again,  I  am  happy.  I  then 
resumed  my  occupation  as  an  artist;  and,  on  the 
very  day  I  had  intended  to  start  for  Virginia  to 
see  you,  by  accident  I  met  a  stranger  who  was 
inquiring  for  a  good  artist,  for  the  purpose  of 
painting  the  portrait  of  his  wife.  I  was  introduced 
to  him  at  my  hotel.  He  requested  me  to  go  to  his 
house  to  do  the  work;  saying  that  he  would  meet  me 
in  his  carriage,  on  the  following  day.  He  told  me  he 


182  THE    CRIMSON   STAR;    OR, 

was  then  residing  at  a  country-seat,  up  the  Hudson. 
You  must  imagine  my  feelings  on  being  introduced 
to  you,  my  own  beloved,  and  lost  one  to  me. 

"  Medora,  when  I  saw  that  you  were  another  man's 
wife,  I  thought  I  should  die.  0,  ye  gods!  how  I  suffered. 
No  tongue  can  describe  my  feelings.  The  little  girl 
that  I  had  thought  I  should  see  again  in  Virginia  was 
now  Mrs.  Ealph  Bruster,  whose  portrait  I  had  been 
brought  here  to  paint.  My  brain  reeled ;  my  blood 
ran  cold  in  my  veins,  the  moment  you  were  intro- 
duced to  me  as  the  gentleman's  wife.  You  remember, 
I  grasped  my  chair  quickly,  and  seated  myself; 
I  could  not  have  stood  a  moment  more.  You  gazed 
at  me  strangely,  and  remarked  that  'the  ride  was  long 
and  tedious ; '  and  called  for  a  glass  of  wine,  to  refresh 
me — which  I  drank  with  your  husband. 

"  I  was  happy  to  see  that  you  did  not  recognize  me. 
I  supposed  that  my  long  whiskers,  sunburnt  face,  and 
French  cap  was  some  disguise.  For  me,  then,  I  as- 
sumed the  name  of  Henri  Delancy,  which  came  into 
my  mind  at  that  moment. 

"  Oh !  Medora,  lost  Medora ;  with  what  vigilance  I 
have  labored  to  find  your  whereabouts,  all  the  while, 
is  more  than  I  can  describe.  After  my  first  visit  to 
you,  for  fear  you  would  after  a  while  find  me  out,  I 
wore  a  mask,  under  which  I  was  able  to  conceal 
myself  from  your  scrutiny.  How  strangely,  dear 
Medora,  we  were  thrown  together!  But  Providence 
permitted  it  to  be  so,  that  I  should  be  the  means  of 
saving  your  precious  life.  But,  oh,  how  painful  it  was 


THE    MIDXIGHT   VISION.  183 

for  me  to  see  and  know  that  your  husband  was  un- 
kind to  you.  For  you,  dearest,  I  would  have  sacrificed 
my  own  life ;  for,  if  the  wicked  plot  which  was  con- 
cocted by  your  husband  and  servant  had  succeeded,  I 
would  have  risked  my  life  to  save  yours.  And,  if  that 
had  been  impossible  for  me  to  have  done,  we  both 
would  have  perished  together.  But  fate  did  not  will 
that  it  should  be  so.  Now  that  I  have  seen  your 
lovely  face,  refuse  not  my  request. 

"On  the  evening  that  I  separated  from  you  at  your 
door,  I  was  tempted  to  unburden  my  heart  and  unmask 
my  face,  and  tell  you  all ;  that  it  was  I,  Eugene — Eu- 
gene Appomore ;  but,  in  your  state  of  excitement  and 
feeble  health,  I  dared  not  do  it. 

"  Oh  !  Medora  Palmore — as  you  once  told  me  to  call 
you — for  God's  sake,  hear  my  plea !  For  nearly  a  twelve- 
month I  have  searched  for  you;  and,  by  the  aid  of 
Providence,  I  am  to-day  blest  with  my  desire,  after 
risking  my  life.  Now,  dearest,  will  you  not  fly  with 
me  ?  You  may  be  contented  within  these  walls,  but 
it  is  only  because  you  had  so  much  trouble  without, 
and  knew  not  how  otherwise  to  bury  it.  But  now  I 
see  you  have  a  darling  infant  in  your  arms — it  must 
be  your  own.  If  you  will  go  with  me  from  this  place, 
I  will  forever  prove  a  faithful  husband  to  you,  and  a 
father  to  your  offspring.  Tell  me — tell  me  quickly,  in 
few  words,  should  you  receive  these  lines,  how  I  may 
manage  to  release  you  from  this  building.  If  you  re- 
fuse, the  cold  sweat  of  death  will  soon  fall  upon  me. 
To  love  another  woman  is  impossible.  From  the  first 


184  THE    CKIMSON    STAR;    OB, 

glimpse  I  had  of  you,  when  but  a  child,  I  loved  you 
dearly  ;  and  now  that  you  have  matured  into  a  lovely, 
charming  angel  of  earth,  I  cannot  live  without  you; 
but  your  situation  forbade  my  making  it  known.  Now 
you  are  free,  I  ask  you  to  be  mine  forever.  If  you  re- 
fuse, I  am  lost  —  lost!  forever  lost!  If  you  accept, 
earth  will  hold  no  heart  so  happy  as  mine.  I  send  you 
my  picture  ;  but,  in  either  event,  I  am 

"  Ever  your  devoted 

APPOHOBE." 


He  folded  the  paper,  ana  tied  it  to  his  small  pen- 
knife, and  threw  it  toward  the  window.  The  young 
ladies  had  left,  and  only  Medora  stood  in  view.  The 
artist  felt  his  hopes  revive  as  the  paper  fell  in  the  right 
direction.  He  noticed  that  Medora  looked  more  at- 
tentively; then  it  appeared  to  him  that  she  noticed 
something  particularly.  All  at  once  she  sprang  from 
the  Avindow,  and  rushed  into  the  yard.  Then,  casting 
her  eyes  upward,  she  beheld  the  artist  on  the  wall.  He 
let  the  string  fall  at  her  feet.  She  trembled  and  turned 
pale,  but  she  caught  the  paper  in  her  hand,  and  in  an- 
other instant  she  was  gone. 

In  a  few  moments  his  fate  Avas  to  be  sealed.  Denial 
or  acceptance  must  come,  and  he  must  be  prepared  for 
the  worst.  His  heart  was  beating  wildly,  and  his  tem- 
ples throbbing.  She  came  to  the  window  and  threw 
down  a  paper,  which  was  attached  to  the  same  string, 
and  fled. 

Now  preparing  himself  for  the  worst,  we  will  not 


THE   MIDNIGHT  VISION.  185 

detail  how  he  obtained  the  paper,  nor  how  eagerly  it 
was  read.    Here  it  is : — 

"ST.  VINCENT. 
"DEAR  HENRI  OR  EUGENE: 

"In  heaven's  name,  Eugene,  is  it  so  that  we  shall 
meet  again?  I  cannot  realize  that  this  letter  is  from 
your  pen,  my  long  lost  and  absent  friend.  I  know  not 
why  I  went  to  the  convent  window  this  afternoon ;  it 
is  something  that  I  have  not  done  since  I  have  been 
within  these  walls ;  but,  being  attracted  to  the  window, 
I  saw  the  floating  string,  and,  by  some  supernatural 
power,  something  seemingly  forced  me  to  see  what  it 
was ;  therefore,  I  rushed  out  into  the  yard  and  caught 
it  into  my  hand,  as  a  boy  would  catch  his  kite.  At  the 
moment,  I  turned  my  eyes  heavenward,  and  there  I  be- 
held a  man  on  the  wall,  and — oh,  Eugene!  Eugene!  is 
it  you  ?  Can  it  be  possible  ?  Are  the  good  angels 
around  us  trying  to  cement  the  broken  links  together? 
Yes,  I  believe  it  is  so.  In  a  moment  more  I  flew  back 
into  my  room,  and,  on  tearing  the  paper  open,  I  recog- 
nized your  photograph.  Oh !  Eugene,  I  feel  so  strangely 
my  brain  reels.  I  feel  as  if  I  shall  scarcely  survive 
this  shock.  Joy  has  often  produced  death.  My  heart 
throbs — my  pulses  fly.  It  is  a  dream — surely  it  can- 
not be  true  that  I  shall  once  more  behold  your  dear 
face  again.  One  week  from  to-day,  I  was  to  take 
the  black  veil.  My  troubles  had  been  so  great,  that  I 
had  renounced  the  idea  of  visiting  my  best  friends, 
my  dear  parents,  again.  To  become  u  nun,  and  live  a 


186  THE   CRIMSON   STAR;   OR, 

holy  life,  and  reach  heaven  at  last,  is  all  that  I  have 
desired.  But,  oh  Eugene !  that  I  have  seen  you,  and 
know  that  you  still  love  me,  is  sufficient  for  me  to 
escape  from  the  convent. 

"  My  heart — my  heart  now  tells  me  where  its  home 
is.  Yes,  I  will  go  with  you.  I  have  been  most  kindly 
treated  here;  made  many  friends  with  the  nuns,  and 
the  lady  Superior  has  treated  me  like  a  sister;  but  now 
I  will  not  stay.  Ah!  well  do  I  remember  the  first 
day  you  came  to  paint  my  portrait.  I  thought  then 
how  strangely  you  acted ;  but  the  mystery  is  all  solved 
now. 

"  On  Saturday  next,  about  four  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon, the  convent  gate  will  be  open,  for  the  purpose  of 
the  putting  in  of  coal  and  wood.  Have  a  carriage 
near.  I  will  go. 

"  Ever  yours, 

"MEDORA." 

Readers,  can  you  imagine  the  feelings  of  the  young 
man  as  he  read  the  above  ? 

"  Oh,"  said  he,  faintly,  "  what  is  there  that  time  and 
courage  cannot  accomplish?"  But  he  checked  the 
feeling  by  whispering:  "'Many  a  slip 'twixt  the  cup 
and  lip.'  I  may  not  get  her,  even  now ;  but  I  will  use 
my  best  exertions.  I  thank  God,  she  loves  me.  I  am 
happy." 

Down,  down  the  ladder  he  came,  scarcely  knowing 
where  he  was.  He  walked  back,  and  caught  up 
the  ladder  with  tenfold  more  power  thau  when  he 


THE    MIDNIGHT   VISION.  187 

had  removed  it;  he  carried  it  back  to  the  owner, 
whom  he  offered  to  pay  for  the  use  of  it,  but  who  re- 
fused any  remuneration. 

Henri  returned  home.  He  sketched  no  more  until 
some  months  after.  He  was  quite  another  being.  A 
smile  flitted  over  his  countenance  during  the  week,  at 
times,  but  the  young  man  could  not  sleep ;  no  more 
slumbers  for  him,  until  he  found  her  whom.^  his  soul 
loved.  The  twelfth  verse  of  the  thirteenth  chapter  of 
Proverbs  may  well  be  applied  to  his  case:  "Hope 
deferred  maketh  the  heart  sick ;  but  when  the  desire 
cometh,  it  is  a  tree  of  life." 

The  day  arrived  when  Henri  Delancy  was  again  to 
near  the  convent  walls.  Never  before  had  the  familiar 
scenery  appeared  more  beautiful  to  his  eyes.  Love  ap- 
pears to  change  the  hills,  the  valleys,  the  lakes,  and 
the  rivers.  All  seem  to  speak  the  language  of  a  pas- 
sion which  is  uncontrollable ;  and  all  who  have  felt  the 
pungent  power  in  their  hearts  must  have  some  sym- 
pathy for  the  young  man  who  is  on  his  way  to  the  con- 
vent to  endeavor  to  release  her  whom  his  heart  adores. 

As  he  drew  near  the  spot  he  trembled.  An  aspen 
leaf  would  not  have  quivered  more  in  a  gale  of  wind; 
but  courage  he  was  determined  to  have,  and  of  cour- 
age he  was  not  destitute.  He  had  ordered  a  carriage 
to  be  at  the  post  she  had  named,  and  he  was  at  the 
appointed  place  on  time,  at  four  o'clock. 

Medora  was  preparing  to  escape.  In  the  morning 
she  had  kissed  the  lady  Superior  and  her  sister  nuns 
for  the  last  time;  but  they  did  not  for  a  moment  sus- 


188  THE  CRIMSON  STAB;  OR, 

pect  that  those  kisses  were  the  last  which  should  be 
imprinted  on  their  lips  by  our  heroine.  As  she  gave 
the  parting  kiss,  tears  lingered  in  her  beautiful  eyes, 
for  she  knew  that  the  day  had  arrived  for  Eugene  to 
come  for  her;  and,  being  aware  of  his  ardor  and 
determination,  she  felt  quite  sure  that  the  last  day  had 
been  spent  in  the  nunnery.  As  the  clock  struck  four 
she  looked  out  of  a  window,  and  saw  the  men  put- 
ting in  coal  and  wood ;  casting  her  eyes  further  on, 
she  beheld  the  carriage.  Her  frame  trembled ;  her  lips 
quivered ;  her  heart  beat  wildly.  The  time  had  come ; 
the  attempt  to  escape  from  Mount  St.  Vincent  must 
now  be  made — the  place  where  she  had  passed  many 
happy  days  with  the  sainted  sisters,  and  mother 
superior,  and  the  father  confessor. 

But  Medora  had  again  seen  the  face  of  the  only 
man  she  had  ever  loved  on  earth.  She  was  even  a 
school-girl  again;  yet  it  was  when  she  was  very  young 
that  Eugene  had  gone  to  France  to  finish  his  educa- 
tion, and  Avhile  there  he  became  interested  in  his 
brush  and  easel;  and  how  queer  it  was  that  he  should 
paint  her  portrait!  Medora  had  learned  by  acute 
experience  to  conceal  her  feelings,  but  now  they  must 
burst  forth  from  a  heart  which  could  no  longer  keep 
the  passion  pent  up  within  her  bosom.  She  flew  like 
light  from  her  room,  with  her  infant  in  her  arms. 
Down,  down  the  long,  winding  flight  of  stairs  she 
glided,  and  onward  through  the  spacious  halls  she 
tripped  lightly;  and,  as  God  would  have  it,  when  she 
reached  the  lower  hall,  the  front  door  was  open — for 


THE    MIDNIGHT   VISION.  189 

one  of  the  wonders  of  the  age.  Previous  to  this 
morning,  the  door,  when  open,  had  been  guarded  by 
some  one  standing  near ;  but  this  afternoon  no  one 
was  visible. 

When  Medora  reached  the  door,  she  offered  up  in  her 
heart  a  prayer  to  God,  and  to  the  mother  of  Jesus,  for 
her  safety  while  beneath  the  sainted  roof  of  Mount 
St.  Vincent ;  and,  with  a  tear  lingering  in  her  beautiful 
eye,  she  flew  like  lightning  from  the  door.  As  her 
feet  touched  the  ground,  she  was  met  by  the  man  who 
had  induced  her  to  leave  the  sacred  portals  of  the  mon- 
astery. One  long  breath  was  drawn,  and  one  shriek  of 
pleasure  was  heard,  and  these  words  fell  from  the  lips 
of  the  artist : 

"  My  God !  my  God !  is  it  you,  dear  Medora  ?  is  it 
possible  that  we  have  met  again  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  "  but  not  a  moment  have  we  to 
spare.  Oh !  Eugene,  Eugene,"  she  whispered. 

He  caught  her  infant  from  her  arms,  and,  holding  her 
hand,  they  walked  a  few  steps  very  quickly,  and  then 
she  was  lifted  into  the  carriage  in  an  instant.  Eugene 
Appomore — we  will  drop  the  fictitious  name,  and  call 
our  hero  by  a  dearer  one  to  her— Eugene  seated  himself 
by  her  side,  and  ordered  the  driver  to  drive  as  fast  as 
possible ;  and  in  a  short  time  they  had  arrived  at  the 
boat.  After  they  were  on  board,  then  the  artist  had  a 
little  time  to  express  his  deep  feelings  to  her,  who  pos- 
sessed a  heart  to  reciprocate  every  emotion  of  his  excited 
soul.  "Oh,  dear  Medora!"  was  all  he  could  say, 
trembingly,  while  the  tears  burst  forth  from  his  eyes. 


190  THE   CRIMSON   STAB  J    OB, 

He  clasped  her  hand  ardently,  and  was  as  pale  as 
death,  and  quite  as  immovable  as  a  statue.  For  some 
time  they  gazed  into  each  other's  faces;  and  Medora,  for 
the  first  time  in  her  life,  awoke  to  feelings  that  she 
knew  not  before  that  she  was  capable  of  enjoying. 

Oh !  reader,  if  you  have  loved,  and  have  been  sepa- 
rated, and  have  met  again,  you  can  better  imagine 
the  pungent  feelings  of  the  heroine  and  hero  of  our 
story.  We  say  they  sat  motionless,  and  gazed  into 
each  other's  faces,  each  one  in  tears,  each  one's  heart 
throbbing  like  that  of  a  young  bird  when  in  the  hands 
of  a  child.  Each  countenance  denoted  the  emotions  of 
the  hearts  of  the  lovers.  The  eyes  always  speak  the 
language  of  the  soul.  Is  there  anything  so  sublime, 
so  tran scendently  beautiful  to  the  human  heart,  as  the 
object  of  its  own  affection  ?  We  say,  nothing  on  earth 
can  so  elevate  a  human  being  as  love — pure  and  pla- 
tonic  affection. 

Eugene  and  Medora,  the  injured  Virginia  belle,  were 
now  happy.  Even  to  look  upon  each  other  was  a 
never-ending  source  of  bliss.  Their  hearts  beat  with 
one  pulsation,  each  eye  lighted  with  the  same  electric 
fire,  each  lip  trembled  with  the  tender  passion  which 
enraptured  their  souls. 

Oh  !  how  sublime  and  superlatively  beautiful  all  na- 
ture appeared  to  the  lovers,  who  had  so  long  been  sep- 
arated by  the  walls  of  Mount  St.  Vincent.  But  now 
they  are  happy.  In  a  few  hours  they  reached  New 
York,  and  stopped  at  the  St.  Nicholas.  They  had  in- 
tended to  go  on  immediately  to  the  minister  of  a  Bap- 


THE   MIDNIGHT   VISION.  191 

tist  church,  and  be  married,  but  the  fatigue  and  over- 
excitement  rendered  Medora  unable  to  accomplish 
their  marriage  on  the,  same  evening  that  witnessed 
their  escape. 

When  they  reached  the  hotel,  she  had  a  burning 
fever,  and  felt  that  death  would  soon  seize  her  vitals. 
The  meeting  of  one  she  had  so  dearly  loved,  whom 
she  had  supposed  lost  to  her  forever,  and  listening  to 
his  sad  story,  as  he  explained  to  her  why  he  wore  a 
mask  to  conceal  his  real  identity — this  was  more 
than  she  could  endure;  therefore  she  was  thrown  into 
convulsions,  and  some  hours  elapsed  before  she 
recovered.  The  sweet  little  Ida  Blanche  was  scarcely 
thought  of  during  all  this  excitement;  but  when  the 
young  mother  believed  that  she  was  about  to  die,  she 
spoke  of  her  infant,  and  wished  it  to  be  given  up  to 
Mrs.  Maria  Bruster,  who  had  formerly  wished  to  adopt 
it. 

Eugene  escorted  his  intended  bride  to  a  chamber, 
and  wished  to  go  immediately  for  a  physician ;  but 
Medora  requested  him  to  wait,  thinking,  perhaps,  that 
it  was  her  fright  in  escaping  from  the  convent  which 
had  overpowered  her  nerves,  and  the  excitement  of 
meeting  him  under  such  circumstances,  and  hearing 
from  him  that  he  was  the  artist  disguised,  who  had 
BO  long  and  truly  loved  her;  and  that,  if  she  remained 
quiet,  she  would  soon  recover  from  the  shock.  But 
her  fragile  form  was  not  strong  enough  to  pass  through 
such  excitement,  and  quickly  overcome  it.  She  was 
ill  all  night  Eugene  sat  beside  her,  and  wept  bitter 


192  THE   CKIMSON   STAB;    OB, 

tears,  which  flowed  from  a  heart  that  truly  loved — 
such  tears  as  Mark  Antony  shed  when  he  believed 
that  Cleopatra  had  murdered  herself. 

Who  could  not  sympathize  with  the  young  artist  ? 
His  wildest  wishes  are  now  on  the  very  verge  of  de- 
struction. His  life  had  been  embittered  for  a  long 
while,  in  consequence  of  the  woman  whom  he  had  just 
released  from  those  confining  walls.  Now  she  lies 
almost  speechless  and  powerless,  and  has  a  dear  babe  for 
him  to  take  care  of.  A  nurse  was  procured  for  the 
little  cherub,  whose  playful  glee  was  not  subdued  by 
the  illness  of  her  mother. 

"  This  is  to  be  my  fate,"  she  said  to  Eugene. 


THE   MIDNIGHT   VISION.  193 

CHAPTEE  XII 

THE   BRIDE'S   ILLNESS. 

f'AT  could  more  shock  a  man  than  to  be  on 
the  verge  of  matrimony  and  true  happiness, 
and  to  see  the  idol  of  his  soul  laid  upon  a 
sick  bed— perhaps  a  dying  couch  ? 

Oh !  how  changeable  is  life ;  and  how  little  do  we 
find  ourselves  prepared  to  meet  the  sudden  changes  of 
misfortune  which  are  so  apt  to  fall  upon  us.  Eu- 
gene was  like  a  bruised  reed.  Mangled  was  the  heart 
of  the  artist  who  had  worshiped  the  portrait  of  the 
girl  which  he  had  painted  previous  to  this  moment. 
But  just  as  soon  as  he  had  the  original  in  his  posses- 
sion, she  is  laid  low  upon  a  bed  of  sickness. 

There  are  many  constitutions  which  cannot  bear 
over-excitement,  no  more  than  could  the  heroine  of  our 
story.  Love,  fright,  anger,  all  are  passions  which  over- 
power the  human  system  very  materially. 

On  the  following  morning,  Medora  requested  Eu- 
gene to  give  her  pen  and  paper,  so  that  she  could 
write  to  her  father  that  she  was  ill.  The  request  was 
granted. 

Propped  up  in  bed,  she  wrote  a  letter  in  very  emphatic 
language,  requesting  him  to  come — come  immediately 


194  THE    CRIMSON   STAR;    OR, 

to  her ;  sealed  it,  and  sent  it  on  to  Virginia.  The  pur- 
port of  the  letter  was  certainly  very  unfavorable  ;  for, 
when  she  wrote,  she  expected  to  be  carried  home  a 
corpse.  The  letter  was  sealed  with  black,  in  order  to 
induce  her  father  to  come  quickly  to  New  York. 

After  Eugene  had  mailed  the  letter,  he  returned  to 
the  bedside  of  the  invalid;  and,  sitting  beside  her, 
tenderly  kissed  her  cold  brow,  and  the  hot  tears  fell 
upon  her  burning  cheeks.  She  opened  her  eyes,  and 
said  to  him : 

"  Oh !  Eugene ;  dear  Eugene !  do  not  grieve  for  me. 
I  am  unfortunate — my  life  has  been  a  mystery  to 
myself.  I  have  been  a  suffering  woman,  but  I  am 
now  ready  to  be  offered  up."  And,  placing  her  hand 
on  her  heart,  she  exclaimed  :  "  Here  is  peace — here  is 
quietness,  notwithstanding  all  that  has  passed." 

"  Yes,  my  sweet  girl,"  replied  the  artist ;  "  you  were 
perfectly  justifiable  in  all  you  did.  I  was  a  witness  to 
all  that  happened  that  night." 

She  smiled,  and  said: 

"  God's  will  be  done  on  earth,  even  as  it  is  done  in 
heaven." 

She  closed  her  eyes,  and  fell  into  a  slumber.  Who  can 
imagine  the  heart-burning  pangs  of  the  Colonel?  "  God 
save  her — save  her  life  ! "  was  the  aspiration  of  every 
breath  he  drew,  and  of  every  look  he  gave.  The  young 
man  prayed  earnestly,  for  once  in  his  life.  If  prayer  was 
offered  in  faith,  how  often  would  we  receive  the  wishes 
of  our  hearts !  God  has  never  been  known  to  turn 
away  from  one  soul  who  has  asked  in  faith,  and  nothing 


THE   MIDNIGHT  VISION.  195 

doubting.  The  pages  of  the  New  Testament  teem 
with  blessings  which  have  been  poured  upon  the  sons 
of  men,  after  they  have  prayed  aright.  Christ  Him- 
self prayed  at  the  tomb  of  Lazarus,  when  He  raised 
him  from  the  dead;  when  He  was  in  the  flesh,  He 
called  upon  a  Supreme  Being  to  aid  Him. 

The  artist,  no  doubt,  used  all  the  power  within  him, 
when  he  asked  God  to  preserve  the  life  of  a  woman 
whom  he  loved  with  all  the  ardor  of  which  man  is  ca- 
pable. His  prayer  is  answered.  He  had  loved  and 
been  compelled  to  resist  all  attractions  for  her,  and 
was  so  unfortunate  as  even  to  witness  the  brutal  treat- 
ment which  she  endured,  and  dared  not  interfere. 

Medora  was  gradually  restored  to  health.  As  soon 
as  she  had  sufficiently  recovered,  they  were  married 

in  the  private  parlor,  by  the  Kev.  Mr.  C .  They 

had  no  elegant  wedding — no  external  show.  Medora 
was  attired  in  a  plain  silk  dress,  and  exhibited  no 
pretensions.  They  were  truly  happy  children  of  na- 
ture. They  returned  to  their  room,  and  awaited  the 
arrival  of  the  father  of  our  heroine.  Nothing  can  mar 
the  peace  of  pure  and  true  love,  such  as  Medora  and 
Engene  now  enjoyed.  Happy,  happy!  Language 
cannot  describe  their  pleasure.  A  purer  atmosphere 
seemed  to  be  thrown  around  them.  Heaven  was  be- 
gun on  earth.  They  appeared  to  have  inhaled  the  air 
from  the  spirit-world.  They  were  as  happy  as  flesh 
and  blood  could  be.  There  were  no  mercenary  prin- 
ciples in  either  heart,  and  they  were  destined  to  make 
each  other  happy.  Just  as  God  intended  his  children 


196  THE   CRIMSON   STAR;    OR, 

to  be  they  were.  Providence,  for  some  purpose,  had  sep- 
arated them;  and,  even  when  thrown  together  in  such 
a  strange  coincidence,  which  caused  Eugene  to  mask 
himself  in  order  that  she  might  not  recognize  him  ?  it 
was  wonderful.  Did  she  never  suspect  anything  ex- 
traordinary in  the  stranger  ?  She  only  knew  that  her 
heart  went  out  towards  the  artist,  but  dared  not  permit 
herself  to  encourage  such  feelings. 

The  officer  would  have  sacrificed  his  life,  in  the  attempt 
to  rescue  her  from  harm.  Providence  interfered  in  the 
villainous  plot,  and  the  Yankee  lawyer  paid  the  pen- 
alty of  his  own  crime. 

Each  one  believed  the  other  to  be  sincere;  and  there 
was  no  deception  between  Eugene  and  the  Virginia 
girl.  We  say  that  they  were  superlatively  happy ;  and 
little  Ida  Blanche  appeared  delighted  with  her  new 
father — the  only  one,  indeed,  whom  she  had  ever 
known.  We  will  leave  the  bride  and  groom  to  enjoy 
their  happiness,  and  return  to  Mount  St.  Vincent. 

When  Sisters  Jacqueline  and  Josephine  missed  their 
friend,  they  were  very  much  alarmed.  Little  Ida  was 
first  sought  for;  for  they  supposed  that  the  child  had 
crawled  away,  and  hidden  her  mischievous  self  in  some 
corner,  and  that  her  mother  had  gone  to  look  for  her. 
But,  upon  a  close  examination,  Sister  Fiorina — for  by 
that  name  had  Medora  been  called — could  nowhere  be 
found.  The  nuns  rushed  to  and  fro,  in  every  depart- 
ment where  they  supposed  the  sister  might  be.  One  ran 
into  the  room  where  the  Blessed  Virgin,  the  Mother  of 
Jesus  was  represented,  thinking,  perhaps  the  nun  had 


THE   MIDNIGHT  VISION.  197 

visited  the  Holy  Mother  to  offer  some  prayer ;  but  she 
was  not  there.  She  was  not  in  the  room  of  the  Su- 
perior. They  ran  into  that  of  Father  Hennipen,  and 
with  a  breathless  gasp,  as  if  they  were  frightened  out  of 
their  wits,  asked  the  priest  if  Sister  Fiorina  had  been 
in  his  room.  The  old  man  was  reading,  and,  laying 
his  book  down  with  quite  an  astonished  air,  replied 
that  the  nun  had  not  been  near  his  room  for  several 
days;  that  he  had  wondered  why  she  had  absented 
herself  so  long. 

"  She  is  gone,  then,"  said  Sister  Jacqueline,  "  for  we 
have  searched  everywhere,  and  she  is  not  to  be  found." 

Father  Hennipen  was  thunder-struck  at  the  unex- 
pected news.  No  sister  had  eloped  from  the  walls  of 
Mount  St.  Vincent,  previous  to  this  moment,  and  the 
father  confessor  was  worried  about  it. 

"  How  could  she  have  got  out  ? "  said  the  priest. 
"  There  is  no  way  of  escape  from  this  nunnery,  un- 
less we  choose  to  have  them  go.  Fiorina  was  one  of 
the  sweetest  girls  I  ever  met,  and  the  last  one  I  should 
have  supposed  would  have  wished  to  escape  these  walls; 
and  her  babe  was  an  idol  to  us  all." 

"  Yes,"  replied  sister  Jacqueline,  "  little  Ida  was  our 
pet,  and  we  are  almost  crazy." 

"She  came  in  with  her  own  free  will,"  said  the 
priest,  "and,  had  we  known  that  she  wished  to  leave, 
she  would  have  been  welcome  to  go;  although  she  was 
just  on  the  verge  of  taking  the  black  veil,  and  becom- 
ing a  nun  for  life.  We  have  lost  a  treasure,  but  we 
must  pray  for  her  return  to  the  Catholic  faith." 


198  THE  CRIMSON  STAR ;    OB, 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  sister,  "  we  were  going  to  take 
the  veil  together,  and  we  so  much  regret  her  absence." 

"  We  may  hear  from  her  again,"  observed  the  priest. 
"  She  has  not  eloped  from  the  convent  from  any  par- 
ticular antipathy  to  us,  I  feel  quite  sure." 

"We  believe  the  same,"  replied  the  sisters;  "but  it 
would  be  a  satisfaction  to  know  why  she  left,  and  how 
she  got  out  of  the  house." 

"  So  it  would,"  said  Father  Hennipen.  "  Perhaps 
she  will  write  and  let  us  know.  The  servant  who  was 
to  watch  the  door  on  Saturday,  when  the  wood  and 
coal  was  put  in,  must  have  been  negligent.  Perhaps 
she  may  know  something  about  the  escape." 

Sister  Jacqueline  ran  off  and  called  the  servant 
whose  office  it  was  to  guard  the  door.  The  poor, 
affrighted  girl  looked  ghostly,  when  she  was  asked  who 
was  at  the  door  on  Saturday,  when  the  fuel  was  put 
in.  She  felt  duty-bound  to  tell  the  truth  when  ques- 
tioned; for  she  was  a  firm  believer  in  the  Catholic 
faith,  and  to  tell  a  lie  involves  a  great  penance.  So 
Bridget  expected  what  was  coming,  being  aware  that 
one  of  the  sisters  had  escaped. 

"  Were  you  at  your  post  on  Saturday,  when  the  wood 
came  ?  "  asked  the  priest. 

"  I  was  sick,  sir,"  said  Bridget. 

"  Who  occupied  your  place  ?  " 

"  No  one,  yer  riverence.  Shure,  had  I  been  able,  I 
should  have  been  there  meself." 

"  Why  did  you  not  send  some  one  else  ?  "  inquired 
Father  Hennipen. 


THE    MIDNIGHT   VISION.  199 

"  Because,  sir,  I  could  get  no  one  to  go.  I  did  ask 
Maria,  but  she  was  possessed  of  the  devil,  and  would 
not  hear  me.  To  tell  the  truth,  sir,  there  was  no  one 
at  the  door  when  the  fuel  came.  I  will  not  tell  a  lie — 
to  be  punished  in  purgatory  one  of  those  days." 

"That  is  right,"  said  the  priest,  "to  tell  the  truth.'* 
"Are  you  aware  that  one  of  the'iiuns  has  escaped  ?" 

"  Yes,  sure,  yer  riverence ;  I  heard  it  an  hour  after 
she  had  flitted.  It  was  the  fine  lady  who  had  the  baby. 
I  feel  truly  sorry,  for  she  was  a  heavenly  being,  sure ; 
and  had  she  taken  the  black  veil,  heaven  would  have 
had  an  angel  sure." 

"You  think  then,  Bridget,  that  Sister  Fiorina  went 
out  when  the  door  was  open  upon  Saturday  ?" 

"  Yes,  yer  riverence,  I  do." 

"  Well,  that  is  all  I  wish  to  hear.  You  may  go,"  said 
the  priest. 

Bridget  stammered  out :  "  I  guess  the  lady  has  gone 
over  to  the  rebels ;  because,  her  brother  was  in  the 
Southern  army." 

"  So  I  heard  her  say  one  day ;  and  she  always  felt  sad 
when  she  read  the  papers,  and  would  speak  about  the 
sufferings  of  the  South.  But  God  knows  I  am  sorry 
she  has  gone  away." 

The  girl  quickly  left,  feeling  very  thankful  to  get 
away  from  her  interlocutor.  The  nuns  left  the  room 
to  meditate  upon  the  absence  of  their  lost  sister. 

Some  days  after  the  escape,  a  letter  was  handed  to  the 
Mother  Superior.  It  proved  to  be  from  Sister  Fiorina, 
now  Mrs.  Eugene  Appomore,  who  had  been  separated 


200  THE    CRIMSON   STAR;    OR, 

from  the  man  she  truly  loved  long,  long  ago.  She  stated 
in  this  epistle  how  strangely  she  had  recently  met  him 
in  such  an  unceremonious  manner.  She  also  requested 
the  Superior  to  ask  the  priest  to  forgive  her  for  absenting 
herself  from  the  convent,  and  stated  why  she  eloped. 
The  explanation  was  very  satisfactory,  and,  in  beautiful 
language,  she  said  that  her  heart  would  ever  be  with 
the  nuns,  the  holy  mother,  and  the  father  confessor. 
She  admitted  their  kindness  to  her,  in  the  most  em- 
phatic language,  and  begged  pardon  and  forgiveness 
for  leaving;  but  spoke  of  her  attachment  to  a  gentle- 
man a  long  while  ago,  previous  to  having  entered  the 
nunnery.  She  announced  her  marriage ;  said  that  she 
was  perfectly  happy,  and  intended  in  a  few  days  to  re- 
turn to  her  home  in  Virginia.  The  lady  Superior  read 
the  letter  to  the  priest  and  the  nuns.  They  all  wept,  and 
repeated  many  prayers  for  their  absent  sister  Fiorina. 
Her  room-mates,  sisters  Jacqueline  and  Josephine,  wept 
as  bitterly  as  though  she  were  dead — which,  indeed, 
she  was  to  them,  as  though  she  had  lain,  in  her  tomb. 

The  name  of  the  Virginia  girl  and  her  babe  sounded 
within  the  convent  walls  for  some  time.  Father  Hen- 
nipen  offered  many  prayers  for  her  safety,  happiness, 
and  prosperity  through  life.  The  letter  of  Medora 
was  a  great  satisfaction  to  the  priest  and  all  the  nuns  ; 
and  even  poor  Bridget  was  blessed  by  it,  for  then 
all  knew  that  she  told  the  truth.  Strict  Catholics, 
however  ignorant,  endeavor  to  act  correctly,  for  they 
very  much  fear  purgatory. 

We  will  say  no  more  about  the  nunnery,  as  the 


THE  MIDNIGHT  VISION.  201 

reader  has  seen  the  excitement  caused  by  the  elopement 
of  our  heroine.     We  will  go  back  to  the  homestead. 

It  is  natural  that  the  parents  of  Mrs.  Bruster,  as 
they  supposed  her  to  be,  should  feel  more  and  more 
anxious  to  hear  from  their  long-absent  child.  One 
afternoon  in  September,  the  planter  rode  out  to  the 
post-office,  and,  upon  entering  the  store,  a  gentleman 
handed  him  a  letter.  As  the  old  man  glanced  at  the 
seal,  he  trembled,  and  looked  like  marble.  Slowly 
taking  his  glasses,  he  seated  himself,  and  read  the 
epistle.  As  he  read,  his  lips  quivered. 

rt  Poor  child,"  said  he,  while  tears  stole  down  his 
withered  cheek. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Mr.  Palmore?  Is  any  member 
of  your  family  dead  ?  "  asked  a  young  man. 

"No;  not  when  the  letter  was  written;  but  I  fear 
my  daughter  will  be  dead  by  the  time  I  shall  have 
reached  New  York." 

"Oh,"  said  the  young  man,  "that  is  Mrs.  Bruster,  I 
believe." 

"Yes,"  replied  the  father.  "I  have  suffered  enough 
for  five  years  to  kill  ten  men.  My  son  was  wounded 
during  the  rebellion — came  near  death  ;  and  now,  per- 
haps my  daughter  is  dead." 

He  folded  the  letter,  placed  it  in  his  pocket,  and 
rose  to  go  home.  "  What  could  have  induced  her  to 
seal  it  in  black?"  said  the  old  gentleman  in  a  whis- 
per, as  he  reached  the  carriage.  "  Ah,  I  guess  she  did 
that  to  induce  me  to  go  on  quickly.  I  will  go  imme- 
diately." 

9* 


202  THE   CBIMSON  STAR;    OR, 

He  drove  off  as  fast  as  the  horse  could  travel,  and 
the  poor  old  man  wept  all  the  way.  Oh !  how  ten- 
derly this  father  loved  his  daughter,  whom  he  believed 
to  be  even  then  in  the  spirit-world.  He  hurried 
home,  and,  upon  entering  the  house,  he  looked  so 
strangely  that  his  wife  noticed  his  unusual  appearance 
and  said : 

"  Surely,  you  must  have  heard  some  bad  news  to- 
day, husband." 

"I  have." 

"What  is  it?"  . 

Mr.  Palmore  thrust  his  hand  into  a  pocket  and  drew 
out  the  letter,  which  he  gave  to  his  wife.  As  she  took 
it  into  her  hand,  she  saw  the  seal  and  became  quite 
nervous. 

"  Oh  !•  this  is  from  New  York,  and  from  my  child ; 
yes,  that  it  is — from  Medora." 

The  old  lady  usually  possessed  much  courage,  but 
now  it  failed.  She  shook  so  that  it  was  with  difficulty 
she  could  hold  the  letter  in  her  hand  until  she  read  it. 
However,  she  perused  it  carefully,  but  stifling  her  sobs 
all  the  while ;  then  wept  aloud,  rising  from  her  seat, 
and,  thinking  of  the  letter,  buried  her  face  in  her 
hands,  exclaiming  "  Oh,  my  daughter !  my  darling 
Medora  is  gone.  Who  knows  but  at  this  moment  she 
may  be  dead." 

"Hush!  hush!"  said  the  husband ;  "weeping  can- 
not fetch  her  back,  if  she  is  dead." 

"Oh,  heavens!"  said  the  mother,  "she  must  be 
dead.  Dying  far  away,  and  uncared  for  among  stran- 


THE   MIDNIGHT   VISION.  203 

gers ! "  and  she  wrung  her  hands  in  anguish,  and 
reproached  herself  for  influencing  her,  daughter  to 
marry  away  from  home. 

Medora  had  said  nothing  about  her  romantic  life. 
She  had  only  said  that  her  husband  had  been  dead 
quite  a  while,  and  that  she  had  omitted  writing  in  con- 
sequence of  the  war,  and  other  reasons  ;  but  that  her 
illness  had  induced  her  to  pen  a  letter  in  the  last 
moments  of  her  life ;  her  end  was  near,  as  she  sup- 
posed. As  the  mother  read,  the  anguish  of  her  heart 
was  great.  She  imagined  she  saw  her  child  draw  her 
her  last  breath;  she  could  almost  fancy  that  she  saw 
the  black  hearse,  as  it  drew  her  toward  some  cemetery 
far  away. 

Here  conscience  was  at  work.  Now  are  the  mo- 
ments when  the  mother  of  Medora  suffered  for  her 
mercenary  conduct.  She  really  believed  that  her 
daughter  had  passed  into  spirit-life.  Oh  !  what  suf- 
ferings did  a  selfish  parent  endure.  All  the  world 
looked,  to  the  old  woman,  like  a  dense  wilderness ;  not 
a  gleam  of  light  shone  upon  her  heart ;  all  was  dreary, 
all  was  darkness  within. 

Medora  had  spoken  of  her  infant,  and  had  requested 
of  her  parents  to  remember  their  orphan  grand- 
child. She  also  spoke  of  fcha  f  c<ri0feed  girl  Lucinda, 
and  begged  her  father  to  tell  the^iomestic  that  her 
mistress  had  never  forgotten  her,  although  a  long 
time  had  elapsed  since  she  had  left  Edge  Hill ;  and 
requested  her  father  to  remember  her  to  all  the  colored 
people,  saying  that  she  had  never  forgotten  them  in 


204  THB   CRIMSON   STAR  J    OE, 

health,  and,  now  that  she  was  so  near  her  end,  every  one 
at  Edge  Hill  was  more  vividly  in  her  mind.  She  said 
that  her  babe  had  been  adopted  by  one  Mrs.  Maria 
Bruster^  but,  in  case  of  that  lady's  demise,  she  hoped 
her  father  would  take  care  of  the  little  orphan. 

As  the  old  lady  sat  reading  over  the  letter,  and 
weeping,  Lucinda  came  in. 

"  Oh,  missus,"  said  the  girl,  "  what  is  de  matter  wid 
you  and  ole  marster  ?  " 

"  Lucinda,"  replied  her  mistress,  "your  Miss  Dora 
is  dead  by  this  time,  we  suppose." 

"  Oh !  mercy,  missus,  you  don't  tell  me  how  dat 
Miss  Dora  is  dead  ? "  and  the  poor  girl  burst  into  a 
flood  of  tears.  A  sister  could  not  have  appeared  more 
grieved  than  did  this  servant  girl. 

This  does  not  look  much  like  slaves  being  treated 
like  brutes,  as  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe  has  asserted  in 
"Uncle  Tom's  Cabin."  However,  we  are  not  all  con- 
stituted alike,  and  if  our  Southern  friends  are  not 
composed  of  such  loving  natures  as  the  Beecher  family 
seemingly  are,  we  should  be  pitied  more  than  blamed ; 
but  in  too  many  cases  she  has  described  our  people  as 
tyrants — which  we  know  to  be  utterly  false. 

Mr.  Palmore  had  refrained  from  tears  as  much  as 
possible ;  but,  seeing  his  wife  grieving  so  intensely, 
and  even  poor  Lucinda  so  much  affected,  the  old  man 
could  not  help  bursting  into  tears  afresh. 

"Get  my  clothing,"  said  Mr.  Palmore  to  his  wife,  "I 
must  leave  for  New  York  as  quickly  as  possible.  I 
can  travel  now,  thank  God,  The  war-cry  sounds  no 


THE   MIDNIGHT  VISION.  205 

more;  but  oh,  oh,  my  poor  child !  had  she  tried  to 
reach  her  own  dear  home,  and  died  here,  I,  like  Jacob, 
could  lie  down  and  die  in  peace." 

With  the  assistance  of  Lucinda,  his  wardrobe  was 
soon  ready;  it  had  been  plentifully  sprinkled  by  the 
tears  of  both,  as  they  packed  it. 

"  Don't  weep  so  much,  girl,"  said  her  master  to  her, 
in  a  feeling  tone.  "  If  your  Miss  Medora  is  dead,  tears 
cannot  bring  her  back;  and  if  she  is  living,  money 
cannot  keep  her  in  the  North.  Now  the  war  is  over, 
I  will  fetch  her  home  at  the  risk  of  my  life." 

Lucinda  said,  low  to  herself,  as  she  left  the  room : 
"  God  grant  dat  Miss  Medora  libes,  and  dat  dear  little 
baby,  and  dat  dey  come  home  to  us  again ;  den  dis 
chile  would  be  happy.  I  don't  care  about  de  niggers 
all  being  free  ;  I  will  stay  wid  Miss  Dora." 

So  saying,  she  hurried  into  the  kitchen  to  tell  Joe  to 
put  the  horses  to  the  carriage,  to  take  her  master  to  the 
steamboat.  As  she  approached  the  coachman,  he  looked 
surprised  at  the  girl,  and  said  : 

"What  is  the  matter,  Lucinda?" 

"  De  Lo'd-a-massy,  Joe,  poor  Miss  Dora  is  dead ;  and 
ole  marster  is  gwine  to  fetch  her  body  home,  all  de  way 
from  New  York,  if  she  ain't  buried  afore  he  gits  clere. 
And,  if  she  is,  he  is  gwine  to  take  her  up  and  lay  her 
here  in  de  ole  grave-yard." 

"  You  don't  say  so,"  cried  Joe,  as  much  astonished 
as  the  girl  was ;  "  how  eber  did  you  hear  dat  ?  " 

"  Ole  marster  got  a  letter  dis  afternoon,"  replied  the 
girl,  weeping  all  the  while. 


206  THE  CRIMSOX  STAB:    OE, 

"If  dat  is  so,  she  mus'  be  dead ;  but  Joe  don't  believe 
it.  I  think  dat  Miss  Dora  ain't  so  sick,  but  will  come 
home,  and  lib  on  de  ole  plantation  yet.  I  guess  she  is 
only  gittiu'  tired  of  dat  Yankee  husband  she  done  mar- 
ried some  years  ago." 

"What  make  you  tiuk  dat,  Joe?"  asked  Lucinda. 

"  Bekase  I  had  a  quar  imagination  some  weeks  ago,  and 
saw  her  come  home,  an'  she  was  married  to  anoder  man 
dan  dat  ole  gentleman  she  went  away  wid.  He  was 
dead,  and  she  was  married  to  a  fine  young  man." 

"I  hope  so,"  ejaculated  Lucinda,  and  wiped  away 
her  tears.  Joe's  queer  imagination  seemed  to  be  a 
great  consolation  to  the  heart  of  the  girl. 

In  a  short  time  the  carriage  was  ready,  and  Mr.  Pal- 
more  took  leave  of  his  wife  in  tears,  and  hastened  to 
the  boat.  The  feelings  of  Mrs.  Palmore  can  better  be 
imagined  than  we  can  depict  them.  Days  and  nights 
passed  slowly  away,  to  a  mother  who  was  waiting  to 
receive  the  corpse  of  her  daughter,  on  the  way  to  the 
homestead  to  be  interred.  Oh !  what  acute  suffering 
the  parent  of  our  heroine  endured  for  many  days. 

Colonel  Palmore  came  home,  and  found  his  father 
gone ;  and  when  he  heard  the  reason  of  his  absence,  he 
fainted ;  he  loved  his  sister  dearly.  As  the  poor  old 
woman  bathed  the  temples  of  her  son  in  cold  water, 
she  said,  in  a  low  tone : 

"Oh,  mercy!  my  son  was  spared  on  the  field  of  bat- 
tle, and  now  is  he  going  to  die  ?  All  my  children  are  to 
be  taken  from  me.  I  have  sinned  in  the  sight  of 
heaven,  and  my  affliction  is  great."  Her  conscience 


THE  MIDNIGHT  VISION.  207 

smote  her  for  all  that  passed.    She  knew  too  well  that 
she  had  encouraged  Medora  to  marry  the  lawyer. 

But  Jasper  recovered  from  the  shock,  and  was  soon 
himself  again. 


208  THE    CRIMSON   STAR;    OB, 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

MEDORA  AND  HER  FATHER  REUNITED. 


'HE  spacious  building  at  Edge  Hill  had  long 
keen  silent.  Nearly  five  years  the  war-cry  was 
heard,  which  augmented  the  trouble.  And, 
from  the  day  when  Medora  had  left  the  old 
homestead,  the  house  had  appeared  dreary.  No  more 
songs  were  sung.  Her  fine-toned  Steinway  piano  and 
Spanish  guitar  had  not  been  opened  nor  touched  a  dozen 
times.  Her  parents  wanted  to  send  the  instruments  to 
her,  but  not  receiving  a  letter  in  so  long  a  time,  it  was 
no  more  thought  of,  for  her  husband  was  able  to  buy 
all  she  needed.  But  now  the  funeral  services  were 
next  expected.  Her  little  canary  bird  folded  its  wings, 
and  sang  no  more  songs.  How  strange  this  was !  The 
soft  tread  of  a  cat  could  be  heard  as  it  walked  through 
the  silent  house,  everything  was  so  still.  The  only 
sounds  in  the  dwelling  were  sobs  and  groans  from  the 
old  lady  and  the  colored  girl  Lucinda.  Many  of  the 
slaves  had  left;  but  two  or  three  house-servants  would 
not  leave.  The  acute  sufferings  of  the  mother  of  our 
heroine  can  only  be  imagined  by  persons  who  have 
suffered  likewise.  Conscience — conscience,  the  mid- 
night tormentor — racked  the  heart  of  Mrs.  Palmore 
until  she  was  sick.  She  knew  that  something  must 


THE   MIDNIGHT   VISION.  209 

have  been  wrong,  from  the  fact  of  her  daughter  not 
having  written  until  she  was  prostrate  upon  a  sick 
bed;  that  was  sufficient  to  induce  the  parent  to  believe 
that  all  was  not  gold  that  glittered.  What  a  fine  ex- 
cuse were  the  national  troubles  for  the  lawyer,  before 
he  fell  asleep  beneath  the  waves  of  the  Hudson.  Lit- 
tle did  the  mother  know  the  sufferings  that  her  inno- 
cent child  had  endured;  little  did  the  old  lady  dream 
that  she  had  been  the  first  spoke  in  the  wheel  which 
bore  her  daughter  onward  to  misery  untold.  She  had 
encouraged  her  child  to  marry  a  man  whom  she  could 
not  love.  Oh!  that  every  parent,  every  relative  who 
has  the  care  of  a  young  female,  may  remember  the  fate 
of  Medora  Palmore,  and  also  remember  the  agony  of 
an  unfeeling  mother — for  now  the  time  has  arrived  for 
Mrs.  Palmore  to  be  punished  for  her  sins.  The  reader 
has  seen  that  Medora  has  passed  through  the  fiery  fur- 
nace of  affliction.  The  oven  had  been  heated  seven 
times  hotter  than  usual,  but  the  angel  of  God  descended 
and  quenched  the  flames;  she  has  come  forth  un- 
touched, as  was  the  case  with  Shadrach,  Meshach,  and 
Abed  u  ego. 

Who  can  distrust  their  Maker  ?  Is  there  a  being  on 
earth  who  could  be  so  vile  as  to  forget  the  great  Su- 
preme, who  watches  all  our  actions  and  all  our 
thoughts  ?  He  rescued  her  at  a  midnight  hour,  when 
an  assassin  attempted  to  shoot  her  in  bed.  He  res- 
cued her  from  a  watery  grave,  when  her  life  was  a 
second  time  attempted.  He  also  rescued  her  from 
Mount  St.  Vincent,  and  she  became  the  wife  of  the 


210  THE    CRIMSON   STAB;    OK, 

choice  of  her  heart.  She  had  endured  all  the  taunts  of 
the  radical  lawyer  in  slavery ;  he  often  called  her  the 
doll  of  viscurva,  and  tantalized  her  all  he  could, 
when  at  home,  in  regard  to  slavery — just  as  if  she  had 
ruled  the  Constitution  and  the  United  States.  But,  as 
yet,  the  frantic  mother  does  not  know  of  all  these  mys- 
teries. She  is  weeping  and  moaning,  anxiously  expect- 
ing the  arrival  of  her  husband ;  and  her  heart  sickens 
when  she  thinks  of  the  approach  of  the  corpse  of  her 
daughter. 

Eeader,  should  you  have  a  mother,  just  let  her  im- 
agine herself  in  the  wreck  of  mind  in  which  is  the 
mother  of  Medora. 

At  this  time,  the  mansion  at  Edge  Hill  is  almost 
draped  in  mourning ;  and,  in  this  wretched  state,  we 
will  leave  the  family  for  a  short  time,  and  return  to  the 
bride  and  groom. 

The  reader  has  seen  the  happy  union  between  fe- 
dora and  Eugene,  but  there  is  one  more  scene  of  pleas- 
ure to  be  witnessed  before  they  leave  New  York.  Mrs. 
Appomore  sat  one  evening  rocking  and  singing  to  her 
babe,  while  Eugene  gazed  into  her  eyes,  as  though  he 
really  believed  her  to  be  an  angel,  when  a  low  rap 
was  heard  at  the  door.  The  young  mother  ceased  her 
lullaby,  while  Eugene  stepped  softly  to  the  door,  and 
opened  it. 

A  tall  old  gentleman  entered,  bowing  very  politely, 
and  asked  if  Mrs.  Bruster  was  in.  As  his  voice  fell 
upon  the  ear  of  Medora,  she  sprang  forward  into  his 
arms,  exclaiming : 


THE   MIDNIGHT  VISION.  211 

"  0  heavens !  my  father,  my  father !  my  long-ab- 
sent father !  "  Screaming  with  ecstasy :  "  My  dear, 
dear  father!" 

The  old  man  burst  into  tears,  pressing  her  to  his 
heart,  and  exclaiming: 

"Thank  God!  thank  God!  My  child!  my  child! 
Oh!  my  lost  Medora.  You  are  alive,  my  long- lost 
child ! "  was  all  he  could  utter,  while  the  tears  trickled 
down  his  withered  cheeks. 

Our  heroine  could  not  utter  a  sentence,  but  "  Father, 
dear  father! — I  am  so  happy,  so  happy ! "  and,  burying 
her  face  in  his  bosom,  she  wept  as  though  her  heart 
would  burst.  Some  persons  weep  for  joy,  which  is 
strange  to  us.  Reader,  here  is  a  darling  child  restored 
in  health  and  happiness  to  a  tender  father,  who  loved 
her  as  dearly  as  his  own  life. 

"  But  where  is  your  husband — the  lawyer  ?  " 

"  Oh !  dear  papa ;  he  is  dead !  He  was  accidentally 
drowned." 

"  You  are  a  widow,  then  ?  "  said  her  father. 

"  No,  no ;  "  she  replied. 

Eugene  stood  amazed,  but  enjoyed  the  scene.  After 
Mrs.  Appomore  had  collected  her  thoughts,  she  ex- 
claimed : 

"  Oh !  my  dear  parent,  we  are  once  more  happy,  and 
here  is  a  husband  of  my  own  choice."  She  then  pre- 
sented the  artist  to  her  father ;  they  clasped  each  other's 
hands  as  father  and  son.  She  put  the  sweet  little  Ida 
into  his  arms,  saying:  "Here  is  another  cherub  for 
you  to  caress." 


212  THE  CRIMSON  STAB;  OR, 

The  old  man  smiled  as  he  took  the  pretty  babe  in 
his  arms,  pressed  it  tenderly  to  his  heart,  and  kissed 
it  many  times,  exclaiming  : 

"  God  bless  yon,  my  child !  This  is  too  much  pleasure, 
Medora,"  was  all  the  old  man  could  utter. 

Oh !  was  ever  love  more  tender  than  that  which  ex- 
isted between  James  Palmore  and  his  amiable  daughter? 
The  happiness  which  they  enjoyed  was  supreme. 

If  our  lives  were  never  embittered  by  suffering,  we 
could  not  enjoy  pleasure  when  it  comes.  If  we  are 
laid  upon  a  bed  of  thorns,  then  we  know  how  to  appre- 
ciate a  couch  of  roses.  And  Medora  Appomore  had 
passed  through  both  scenes  in  life,  as  the  reader 
has  already  seen.  She  asked  many  questions  about 
her  mother,  brother,  and  all  her  acquaintances.  Her 
father  could  talk  but  little,  and  did  not  say  much  for 
the  evening.  He  appeared  truly  overpowered.  He 
gratified  her  wishes  in  conversation  as  far  as  he  was 
able ;  and,  after  sitting  up  quite  late,  they  retired.  Mr. 
Palmore  had  not  slept  so  soundly  for  years,  as  on  this 
night  of  his  arrival  at  the  hotel.  He  had  expected  to 
find  his  daughter  dead,  or  dying ;  or,  perhaps,  interred.- 
How  great,  then,  was  his  revulsion  of  feeling  on  the 
following  morning  ?  He  asked  a  few  questions  about 
her  first  husband,  which  Medora  promptly  answered ; 
telling  him  what  a  sad  fate  the  lawyer  had  met,  and 
that  she,  like  many  other  young  Avidows,  had  found 
one  whom  she  fancied,  and  had  married  again.  All 
now  was  right. 

The  next  day,  when  the  chambermaid  came  to  ar- 


THE   MIDNIGHT   VISION.  213 

range  the  room,  Mrs.  Appomore  saw  a  new  face — a 
different  girl  from  the  one  who  had  hitherto  waited 
upon  her.  Upon  looking  more  closely,  who  should  the 
new-comer  be  but  Irish  Mary,  who  had  saved  her  life. 
As  the  girl  approached  Medora,  to  ask  some  question, 
she  stepped  back  in  amazement. 

"  Do  you  know  me  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Appomore. 

"  I  have  seen  you,  ma'm,"  said  Mary.  "  You  look 
like  a  lady  I  once  lived  with,  but  you  are  much  stouter 
than  she  was." 

"What  was  her  name?" 

"Mrs.  Brnster,  ma'm." 

"And  where  did  you  live  with  her?  " 

"At  a  beautiful  country-seat, on  the  Hudson,  ma'm, 
And  she  was  a  dear,  kind  lady,  I  assure  you,  ma'm." 

"I  am  the  same  lady,  Mary,"  said  Mrs.  Appomore. 

"The  Lord  be  praised  !  An'  shure,  ye  be  the  identi- 
cal lady,  I  do  be  believing  ; "  and,  seizing  the  hand  of 
the  bride,  Mary  gave  it  a  hearty  squeeze,  and  the 
tears  streamed  down  her  rosy  cheeks. 

"  Ah !  Mary,"  said  Medora,  much  affected,  "  you 
once  saved  my  life,  and  I  have  often  prayed  to  God  to 
protect  you  through  this  vale  of  tears." 

"  Thank  you,  ma'm  ;  and  its  meself  that  has  often 
begged  the  howly  Vargin  to  protict  ye  also." 

"  What  has  become  of  Thomas?"  asked  Medora. 

"  Tommy  and  myself  are  married  now,  ma'm,"  said 
Mary,  smiling  through  her  tears. 

"  Indeed  !    And  so  you  are  married  ?  " 

"Yes,  an'  Tommy  is  employed  in  this  hotel.   I  loved 


214  THE  CRIMSON  STAR;  OR, 

Thomas  when  we  lived  in  your  house  ;  but  that  hlack 
trick  he  was  engaged  in,  when  he  was  going  to  help 
that  old  man  to  throw  you  over  in  the  river,  put  me 
out  with  him.  He  had  to  say  his  beads  often,  and  at 
last  was  forgiven.  So  I  married  him,  and  he  has  proved 
a  first-rate  husband." 

"I  am  really  glad  of  it.  Well,  Mary,  I  shall  per- 
haps never  see  you  again  after  to-day ;  but  you  will 
ever  have  my  best  wishes  and  prayers.  You  were  kind 
to  me  when  I  stood  greatly  in  need  of  it." 

"  Thank  you,  ma'm.  And  I  see  you  have  another 
husband,  and  a  beautiful  baby;  and  a  fine  man  does 
your  husband  look  to  be." 

"  Yes ;  and  a  good  man,  Mary,  which  is  superior  to 
all  else,"  replied  Mrs.  Appomore. 

"Sure  enough,  and  that  is  the  truth,  ma'm." 

In  her  joy  at  meeting  her  former  mistress,  Mary 
had  almost  forgotten  her  duties ;  she  now  hastened 
from  the  room,  saying  that  she  would  return  again. 
Left  alone,  Medora  fell  into  deep  thought.  She  re- 
membered more  vividly  all  that  had  passed  between 
her  and  Mr.  Bruster;  the  vision  of  Mary  recalled 
everything.  But  she  cast  aside  those  gloomy  thoughts, 
and  remembered  her  dear  husband,  father,  and  child  ; 
and  the  thought  of  going  back  to  her  old  dear  home 
in  Virginia,  with  the  choice  of  her  heart,  and  meeting 
all  her  old  school-mates,  banished  her  sad  feelings. 
She  knew  that  many  of  her  gentleman  acquaintances 
had  fallen  in  the  war,  but  yet  she  was  happy. 

The  morning  was   fine,   the  sky  clear ;  all  nature 


THE    MIDNIGHT   VISION.  215 

appeared  to  inhale  the  pure  oxygen  which  invigorates 
mortals  while  upon  earth.  Colonel  Appomore  and  his 
wife  were  taking  their  last  stroll  up  Broadway,  pre- 
vious to  leaving  New  York.  As  they  wandered  along 
the  street,  they  met  Mr.  Palmore.  He  smiled,  and 
said,  as  they  approached  each  other : 

"Now,  my  dear  daughter,  you  must  bid  farewell  to 
New  York,  and  the  Northern  States,  for  I  wish  you 
and  your  husband  to  go  home  with  me,  and  there  pass 
your  days,  at  Edge  Hill,  on  old  Virginia's  soil.  The 
slaves  are  all  free,  but  some  are  still  there,  and  we 
could  not  drive  Lucinda  and  Joe  away;  so  you  will  see 
them  again." 

She  laughed,  and  asked  Eugene  if  he  was  willing  to 

go- 

"  Yes,  my  love ;  you  know  I  am.  I  am  like  Ruth, 
who  followed  her  mother-in-law  into  a  strange  land— 
'Where  thou  goest  I  will  go;  where  thou  diest  I  will 
die  ;  thy  people  shall  be  my  people,  and  thy  God,  my 
God.'" 

"Strong  language,"  said  the  father;  and  they 
laughed  at  the  enthusiastic  husband. 

Returning  to  the  hotel,  they  were  all  ready  to  leave, 
when  Mary  came  rushing  in  to  bid  them  farewell 

"This  was  one  of  Mr.  Bruster's  servants,"  said 
Medora  to  her  father ;  "  she  was  a  faithful  girl,  and 
one  of  my  kindest  friends." 

"  Is  that  so  ?  "  said  the  old  man,  smiling. 

Mr.  Palmore  then  opened  his  pocket-book  and  pre- 
sented a  large  bill  to  the  astonished  girl.  He  also 


216  THE   CRIMSON  STAE ;    OB, 

told  her,  if  she  ever  got  into  trouble  to  write  to  him, 
and  he  would  relieve  her;  and  gave  her  his  address. 

The  girl  was  enraptured;  she  had  never  had  so 
much  money  in  her  life  at  one  time.  She  courtesied, 
and  wept,  and  implored  the  Virgin  Mary  to  bless  them 
all  their  lives,  with  all  the  sincerity  of  her  heart. 
Mrs.  Appomore  then  made  her  some  handsome  pres- 
ents, such  as  she  thought  would  be  of  most  use  to  a 
working  girl.  The  package  was  left  on  a  bureau,  with 
Mary's  name  marked  thereon.  As  they  were  about  to 
enter  the  carriage,  Thomas  came  running  up  to  them, 
and,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  begged  the  good  lady  to 
forgive  him  for  his  sin,  saying  that  he  remembered 
the  past,  and  had  atoned  for  all,  through  the  mercy  of 
God  and  the  Holy  Virgin. 

Medora  smiled,  and  bade  Mary  and  himself  farewell, 
forgiving  all  of  Tommy's  frailties,  and  begging  them 
to  live  happily  together.  The  vehicle  rolled  away ; 
they  soon  reached  the  depot,  and  the  Virginians  were 
on  their  way  home.  There  was  much  to  mourn,  when 
they  reached  their  home,  as  many  of  the  neighbors 
had  fallen  in  the  army;  but  Providence  had  fought 
the  rebellion,  and  it  was  now  ended. 

The  reader  must  suppose  that  Mrs.  Palmore  had 
suffered  quite  enough  during  this  long  period  of  sus- 
pense. The  delay  of  her  husband  only  confirmed  her 
in  the  belief  of  the  death  of  her  daughter.  Oh !  how 
keenly  she  was  punished  for  her  wicked,  mercenary 
feelings.  This  old  lady  was  an  exception  to  Southern 
character,  for  there  are  but  few  who  love  money  so  well. 


THE    MIDNIGHT    VISION.  217 

She  had  been  the  cause  of  her  daughter  marrying  a 
man  who  had  embittered  a  portion  of  her  life  with  sor- 
row. The  cup  had  been  drained  to  the  dregs ;  but 
Medora  had  survived  it,  and  now  the  old  woman  is 
getting  her  draught  in  return.  God  never  intends 
His  creatures  to  be  punished  innocently.  He,  at  some 
future  day,  will  permit  the  aggressor  to  fall  into  trou- 
ble in  some  way ;  and,  if  they  are  not  overtaken  in 
this  world,  the  next  sphere  of  their  existence  will 
repay  them  for  all  their  wickedness  done  while  here. 
Darkness  will  overshadow  them ;  every  wicked  person 
will  meet  with  his  reward. 

Mrs.  Palmore  wept  like  Eachel,  and  refused  to  be 
comforted.  As  she  sat  musing  alone  in  her  chamber 
one  evening,  Lucinda  came  wishing  in,  crying  out: 

"  Oh !  missus,  here  is  a  letter,  handed  me  by  a  man 
at  de  gate ;  but  he  is  done  gone  now." 

The  old  lady  quickly  tore  it  open,  and  read  the 
few  lines  which  it  contained,  which  were  nothing 
more  than  for  her  to  send  a  carriage  and  wagon  to  the 
steamboat ;  that  they  had  landed,  and  were  waiting 
for  conveyance.  Not  a  word  about  Medora.  The  old 
lady  began  to  weep  afresh ;  what  must  she  not  have 
suffered  for  a  few  hours ! 

But  will  the  reader  sympathize  with  her?  I  think 
not,  if  they  will  cast  their  minds  back  to  the  hours  of 
courtship  between  the  lawyer  and  the  beautiful  and 
innocent  girl  of  Virginia.  Let  them  dwell  upon  the 
acute  sufferings  of  Medora  whrle  Bruster  lived  ;  let 
them  remember  the  mock  marriage,  his  different  at- 
10 


218  THE    CRIMSON   STAR;    OR, 

tempts  to  murder  her,  how  she  begged  on  her  knees 
for  her  life  to  be  spared;  and,  but  for  Irish  Mary,  she 
might  have  been  murdered.  The  mother  was  the 
cause  of  all,  to  a  greater  or  lesser  extent;  but  now  she 
suffered  keenly  for  her  advice. 

They  will  soon  be  there,  with  their  melancholy  bur- 
den ;  and,  poor  old  creature,  she  takes  a  seat  in  a  corner 
and  weeps.  Jasper,  too,  in  deep  grief  awaits  the  com- 
ing of  the  lifeless  body  of  the  loved  one  to  the  home- 
stead. Lucinda,  weeping  at  the  window,  gazes  at  every 
passing  object,  and  tells  what  she  sees. 

"  Let  me  know,  Lucinda,  when  the  carriage  arrives," 
said  Mrs.  Palmore. 

"Yes,  missus,"  replied  the  girl,  and, just  at  twilight, 
Lucinda,  who  had  strained  her  eyes  nearly  out  of  her 
head,  exclaimed: 

"Dey  is  comin',  missus.  Oh!  Lord,  dey  drive  like 
dey  is  got  a  corpse  in  de  wagon,  sure  enough ;  Miss 
Dora  is  dead,  for  sartin,  dey  come  so  slow,  missus.  I 
see  old  marster  sit  in  on  de  front  seat  of  de  carriage, 
and  he  has  got  his  handkerchief  to  his  eyes.  Look, 
mars'  Jasper,  and  see  how  slow  dey  comes." 

As  Lucinda  ceased  speaking,  the  old  lady  gave  one 
shriek,  and  threw  herself  into  Jasper's  arms.  The  car- 
riage drew  near,  but  the  mother  knew  it  not;  she  had 
fainted.  As  the  vehicle  approached  the  gate,  Lucinda 
sprang  forward,  saying : 

"They  are  here  now,  missus." 

The  old  lady  opened  her  eyes,  and  tried  to  move,  but 
she  could  not. 


THE    MIDNIGHT   VISION.  219 

"  Wait,  mother  ; "  said  Jasper,  "  they  will  be  in 
directly."  He  was  bathing  her  temples  in  cold  water, 
and  trying  to  revive  her. 

She,  in  a  moment  more,  shrieked:  "  Oh!  my  son, 
my  son,  you  were  spared  to  me,  but  now  my 
daughter,  oh!  my  daughter  is  dead;  my  darling 
Medora,  my  dear  child  is  gone."  And  she  wrung 
her  hands  in  the  most  excruciating  agony,  expecting 
every  moment  to  see  the  coffin  brought  in. 

The  colored  men  had  rushed  from  the  kitchen  to 
meet  the  deceased — their  beloved  young  mistress.  All 
was  in  consternation. 

In  another  instant,  Lucinda  bounded  in  with  a  babe 
in  her  arms,  and  exclaimed  : 

"  Lord,  missus,  here  is  Miss  Dora's  baby.  She  ain't 
dead.  Here  she  is." 

The  old  lady  raised  her  weeping  eyes,  and  her 
daughter  rushed  into  her  arms.  But  her  mother 
could  not  move  a  muscle,  she  lay  completely  exhausted 
in  such  grief,  almost  insensible. 

"  0  mother,  dear  mother,"  exclaimed  Medora ;  that 
was  all  she  could  say,  while  she  buried  her  face  in  her 
mother's  bosom,  weeping.  Mrs.  Palmore  feebly  threw 
her  arms  about  her  child,  and  said,  in  a  faint  voice ; 

"  Thank  God !  thank  God !  you  are  alive." 

We  will  omit  a  description  of  the  universal  transport. 
The  scene  was  now  changed ;  the  joy  was  overpower- 
ing, her  father  came  in,  and  introduced  the  new 
son-in-law.  He  was  received  with  all  joy,  and  the  lit- 
tle infant  was  almost  devoured  with  caresses.  "  I  am 


220  THE    CRIMSON   STAR  ;    OR, 

so  happy!  I  am  so  happy!"  Medora  constantly  re- 
peated. 

Happiness  had  indeed  returned  to  Edge  Hill,  and 
none  seemed  more  delighted  than  Lucinda  and  Joe, 
the  house  servants,  who  had  been  so  devoted  to  their 
young  mistress. 

The  parents  were  much  pleased  with  the  husband 
their  daughter  had  chosen,  and  a  happier  family  was 
never  seen. 

The  old  gentleman  gave  up  the  plantation  to  his 
daughter  and  her  husband,  and  the  old  couple  sat  down 
in  ease  and  quietness.  Lucinda  was  as  fond  of  the  lit- 
tle Ida  as  fond  could  be.  She  often  laughed,  and  told 
"  Miss  Dora  "  that  she  had  seen  her  spirit  standing  up- 
stairs, by  her  room  door,  with  a  baby  in  her  arms. 

"  And  I  knowed  den,  Miss  Dora,  dat  you  would  come 
back  some  day." 

The  news  spread  abroad,  and,  in  a  few  days,  Edge 
Hill  was  besieged  with  callers.  The  meeting  between 
Medora  and  her  bridesmaids  was  very  afiecting.  In  a 
few  weeks  after  their  arrival,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Appomore 
gave  a  large  wedding  party  to  Colonel  Palmore — as  he 
had  married  the  pretty  little  blue-eyed  Meredith,  who 
chattered  so  about  the  heroine  of  "  Celia's  First  Love," 
on  Medora's  bridal  morning. 

The  splendid-toned  Steinway  piano  vibrates  through 
the  mansion  at  Edge  Hill.  The  gentle  touch  of  Me- 
dora's delicate  fingers,  while  she  played  her  favorite 
airs  of  the  olden  times,  extorted  both  pleasure  and  pain 
from  many  throbbing  hearts.  Tears  of  joy,  and  smiles 


THE    MIDNIGHT    VISION.  221 

of  admiration,  ran  like  an  electric  shock  through  the 
large  assembly,  while  the  walls  of  Edge  Hill  resounded 
to  music  and  merry  laughter  once  more.  The  French- 
man was  charmed  and  delighted  with  the  bright  eyes 
and  smiling  faces  of  his  wife's  friends,  who  welcomed 
him  se  enthusiastically  to  his  Southern  home.  The 
world  to  her,  seemingly,  was  now  a  paradise.  The  wa- 
ters of  the  Rappabaunock  often  recalled  to  her  mind 
the  beautiful  scenery  of  the  Hudson.  All  that  had 
passed  was  indelibly  imprinted  upon  her  loving  heart. 
The  scene  of  pleasure  ended  the  guests  quitted  the 
antiquated  mansion,  leaving  the  bride  and  groom  to 
enjoy  their  felicity,  with  all  the  blessings  that  earth 
can  afford. 

Notwithstanding  all  this  excitement  and  pleasure, 
Medora  never  forgot  her  former  friends ;  neither  did 
she  wish  to  punish  her  enemies.  In  a  few  days  after 
her  arrival  home,  she  fulfilled  her  promise  which  she 
had  made  to  Mrs.  Maria  Bruster,  the  lady  who  would 
have  adopted  little  Ida  in  case  of  her  mother's  death, 
or  had  she  taken  the  veil ;  but,  on  receiving  an  an- 
swer from  a  friend,  the  sad  news  came  that  this  kind 
woman  had  passed  into  the  spirit  world !  Her  life 
had  been  a  scene  of  turmoil,  disappointment,  and  sor- 
row ;  yet,  at  her  demise,  she  kept  her  promise.  She 
had  willed  the  most  of  her  large  estate  to  little  Ida, 
the  offspring  of  her  unprincipled,  false-hearted,  and 
brutal  husband ;  for  he  had  brought  death  upon  him- 
self, and  woe  and  misery  to  the  hearts  of  many  others. 

The  place  is  noted  on  the  Hudson  for  its  romantic 


22-2  THE    CRIMSON   STAB;    OR, 

location.    The  house  stands  all  alone,  and  at  times  is 
uninhabited,  as  it  is  a  cold,  bleak  place  in  winter. 

It  can  be  distinctly  seen  from  the  cupola  of  the 
Grant  House,  in  Catskill.  The  weeping  willow,  which 
is  an  emblem  of  melancholy,  bends  its  graceful  twigs 
over  a  little  brook  which  glides  gently  through  the  val- 
ley, where  wild  flowers  bloom,  and  evergreens  flourish, 
which  have  been  so  often  plucked  by  the  hand  of  the 
unfortunate  widow  of  the  New  York  lawyer ;  for  it 
was  in  this  house  that  she  drew  her  last  breath. 

We  will  not  be  too  accurate  in  our  description  of 
the  building,  as  the  property  is  now  owned  by  strangers, 
whose  ears,  perhaps,  may  have  never  heard  this  sad 
story  related. 

We  now  leave  our  heroine,  and  her  quiet  little  family 
in  possession  of  all  the  comforts  of  a  Southern  home  ; 
yet  they  spend  much  of  their  time  during  the  sum- 
mer months  at^the  North.  Little  Ida  is  now  a  grown 
young  lady,  and  also  her  two  French  sisters,  Lillian  and 
Gracie,  whose  beauty  would  surpass  a  Catharine  of 
Medicis,  or  a  Cleopatra. 

It  is  amusing  to  hear  the  young  ladies,  every  season, 
disputing  over  their  summer  tour.  Part  of  the  fam- 
ily are  desirous  of  going  to  Saratoga.  They  declare 
that  the  water  of  the  Washington  Spring,  at  the 
Clarendon  Hotel,  is  the  finest  mineral  water  in  the  world, 
and  the  most  conducive  to  health.  They  say  that  even 
the  shade  of  the  trees  which  surround  the  springs, 
and  the  grassy  mounds,  transport  their  imagination 
to  Persia,  where  the  palm-leaves  fan  the  inhabitants. 


THE    MIDNIGHT   VISION.  223 

Others  would  like  to  spend  more  of  their  time  at  the 
palatial  Grant  House. 

"Oh!  mamma,"  says  Ida,  "I  know  that  Lillian 
would  like  to  go  to  Saratoga,  but  I  want  to  go  to  the 
Catskills,  where  we  spent  a  month  last  season  so  pleas- 
antly. I  do  like  a  mountainous  country.  The  location 
i.s  perfectly  beautiful,  being  on  the  brow  of  the  hill, 
which  is  almost  perpendicular;  and  to  gaze  on  those 
cerulean  mountains,  which  are  so  vivid  to  the  eye, 
far  and  near,  is  perfectly  enrapturing.  The  air  is 
pure,  and  the  flowers  are  fragrant,  that  one  almost  im- 
agines they  are  in  fairy-land.  I  enjoyed  the  scenery 
from  the  cupola — as  I  gazed  out  upon  the  beautiful 
Hudson,  which  almost  inspired  me  with  poetical  ideas — 
and  the  promenades  through  those  spacious  balconies, 
so  much !  The  drives  are  beautiful ;  the  surroundings 
of  no  Asiatic  potentate's  dwelling  could  ever  surpass 
these  grounds." 

"  Oh,  my  dear,"  said  her  mother,  "you  were  always 
enthusiastic  in  your  feelings ;  and,  as  you  grow  older, 
you  become  more  like  your  father.  I  am  sorry,  but 
really,  my  daughter,  you  are  vain,  and  I  fear  you  may 
become  tyrannical.  Such  a  disposition  would  be  de- 
structive to  your  happiness  forever.  However,  I  hope 
for  the  better.  But  remember  your  sisters ;  their  tastes 
must  be  consulted  also,  no  matter  if  they  are  a  little 
younger." 

"  Oh !  ma,"  said  the  beautiful  blue-eyed  blonde, 
Lillian,  her  golden  ringlets  falling  gVacefully  over  her 
shoulders ;  "  I  don't  care  where  I  go,  so  long  as  the 


224  THE    CRIMSON   STAR;    OR, 

guests  are  congenial,  and  we  can  enjoy  equestrian  ram- 
bles and  terpsichorean  feats." 

"  Well,  my  dear,"  said  her  mother,  "  I  am  very  glad 
you  are  so  easily  pleased.  I  feel  quite  sure  that  your 
father's  taste  will  be  to  go  farther  up  in  the  mountains, 
as  he  is  a  great  admirer  of  nature." 

"Well,"  said  Ida,  turning  away  from  her  mother 
with  a  dignified  air  and  the  tread  of  a  gazelle,  "  I  sup- 
pose we  will  be  guided  by  pa." 

"  Then  we  will  spend  most  of  our  time  at  the  Laurel 
House,"  replied  her  mother — "as  your  papa  lives  in 
a  world  of  his  own.  He  idolizes  his  wife  and  children ; 
yet  the  pencil  and  brush  are  his  inseparable  compan- 
ions, and  I  am  sure  there  is  no  place  on  the  globe,  not 
even  the  Falls  of  Niagara,  can  surpass  the  Cauterskill 
Falls,  at  the  Laurel  House;  and  he  told  me  only  last 
Aveek  that  he  was  going,  principally,  to  sketch.  He  re- 
marked that,  during  his  tour  in  Europe,  there  was  no 
scenery  in  Italy  which  could  surpass  the  grandeur  of 
these  falls,  where  the  water  rushes  in  torrents  over  a 
peak  of  rocks  180  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea,  and 
the  lower  falls  at  a  height  of  80  feet.  What  sublimity ! 
what  grandeur !  With  what  enthusiastic  admiration 
one  stands  underneath  the  falls,  and  watches  the  water 
as  it  pours  in  torrents  down  the  precipice,  dashing  its 
silvery  spray  over  the  flinty  rocks,  foaming  like  the 
sea- waves !  Could  we  wish  a  more  sublime  aspect  in 
nature?  One  other  point  he  named  that  he  would  like  to 
sketch,  was  Sunset  Kock,  which,  no  doubt,  will  make 
equally  as  fine  a  picture.  But  the  entire  surroundings 


THE    MIDNIGHT    VISION.  225 

of  this  place  are  so  exquisitely  magnificent  that  even 
the  talent  of  a  Michael  Angelo  would  be  inadequate 
to  the  task  of  picturing  the  far-famed  summer  re- 
sort." 

Just  as  Mrs.  Appomore  had  finished  her  remarks, 
her  husband  entered,  with  a  smile  on  his  countenance, 
asking: 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  this  tableau?" 

"Why,  dear,"  replied  his  wife;  "  we  were  only  dis- 
cussing our  summer  tour,  up  North." 

"  Well,  where  did  you  decide  to  go,  darling  ?  " 

"Just  where  you  please,  husband." 

"  You  know  what  I  said  the  other  day  in  regard  to 
our  travels.  We  shall  visit  several  places  this  sum- 
mer, but  spend  the  most  of  our  time  at  Schutt's  Lau- 
rel House.  I  told  you*I  Avished  to  make  sketches  of 
the  prominent  points  of  Cauterskill  Falls.  I  do  not 
know  but  that  my  sketches  may  have  been  better,  in 
our  days  of  sadness,  than  they  would  be  now ;  but, 
being  particularly  fond  of  scenery  on  the  Hudson,  I 
still  cling  with  tenacity  to  its  surroundings." 

Here  the  conversation  ended,  and  we  leave  our  read- 
ers to  judge  for  themselves  how  smoothly  the  lives  of 
our  heroine  and  her  little  family  glided  along  over  the 
rugged  paths  of  life. 

We  hope  that  our  story  may  make  a  good  impression 
on  the  mind  of  mercenary  parents  and  relatives ;  and 
we  also  trust  that  the  Christian  fortitude  with  which 
Medora  bore  her  trouble  will  enable  others  to  bear  up, 
under  similar  circumstances — for  the  sting  of  misfor- 


"226  THE    CRIMSON   STAR. 

tune  is  truly  unpleasant — perceiving  the  power  and 
wisdom  of  God  exhibited  in  this  tale.  We  have  en- 
deavored to  depict  vice  in  its  true  colors,  and  to  give 
virtue  its  real  merit  and  due  reward. 

Perhaps  our  readers  would  like  to  know  whether 
our  heroine  ever  gave  her  parents  a  history  of  her 
troubles  during  the  many  years  of  her  absence  from 
home.  We  are  happy  to  say  that  she  did.  As  she  had 
never  been  deceptive  in  any  respect,  she  could  not 
keep  the  important  story  from  her  best  friends.  And 
we  hope  our  readers  will  remember,  that  when  children 
are  born  of  parents  who  married  for  true  love,  their 
offsprings  are  more  intellectual,  amiable,  and  more 
likely  to  live  to  old  age. 

During  the  recital,  the  old  couple  were  deeply  af- 
fected, and  they  could  but  rejoice,  like  Jacob  of  old 
when  he  beheld  Joseph. 

James  Palmore  exclaimed :  "  I  can  now  die  in  peace," 
and,  using  his  own  quotation  on  the  morning  that  his 
daughter  left  Virginia  as  a  bride:  "All  is  well  that 
ends  well ! " 


Mrs.  Sarah.  A.  Wright's  New  Books. 


The  Crimson  Star ;  or,  The  Midnight  Vision price  $1  50 

The  Golden  Ladder  ;  or,  the  Stolen  Jewel.    Fine  binding, 

gilt  edge.     Fourth  edition 3  00 

Improper  Use  of  the  Tongue.     In  cloth 1  00 

The  Gem  of  the  Lake.     Paper  cover.     Sixth  edition 50 

The  Secret  Duel.     Paper  cover.     Fifth  edition 25 

Who  shall  be  President  ?    Paper  cover 25 


Now  that  our  story  is  ended,  we  will  try  and  amuse  onr  readers  with  a 
series  of  poems  and  sketches  on  different  summer  resorts,  which  will  no 
doubt  interest  persons  who  enjoy  travels. 


AT 

THE    CAUTERSKILL    FALLS. 

LEAVING  Catskill  village  for  the  mountains  on  tlie  Clove 
road,  the  scenery  is  grand  and  imposing,  winding  round  and 
round  the  hill  till  we  reach  the  summit.  To  the  left  as  we 
pass  on,  we  cross  Moore's  Bridge,  where  the  water  comes  leap- 
ing and  dashing  its  furious  spray  over  a  peak  of  mossy  rocks 
of  tremendous  height,  flowing  down  the  brook,  passing  on 
through  the  grove.  The  road  is  richly  shaded  with  birch, 
maple,  and  fir.  As  we  pass  on,  if  in  the  evening,  the  silvery 
moonbeams  fall  on  the  shrubbery  like  so  many  glistening  dia- 
monds. When  we  ascend  the  hill,  we  behold  an  opening  be- 
tween the  trees  ;  then  a  beautiful  mansion  of  modern  structure 
meets  our  gaze,  located  in  a  grove  near  the  Cauterskill  Falls, 
which  have  become  so  noted  in  history.  Standing  on  the 
piazza,  in  front  of  the  mountains,  we  view  a  perfect  landscape 
of  loveliness.  The  Round  Top  rises  before  us  in  its  azure 
grandeur,  overlooking  hill  and  valley  ;  then,  turning  to  the  left, 
we  see  High  Peak  raising  its  lofty  head  towards  the  skies. 
This  location  cannot  be  surpassed  in  America. 

We  must  not  omit  the  romantic  spot  called  Mary's  Glen,  as 
it  is  one  worthy  of  particular  notice.  It  is  a  beautiful  ravine, 
shaded  with  tall  trees  and  shrubbery,  through  which  runs  a 
gurgling  brook,  where  pansies  and  wild  flowers  bloom.  It  is 
not  necessary  to  dwell  but  a  moment  on  the  falls,  as  we  have 
already  described  them  in  our  story.  We  can  only  say  that 
the  Cauterskill  Falls  are  grand,  sublime,  and  no  spot  on  earth 
that  we  have  ever  visited  can  vie  with  these  rocky  caves  and 
lofty  peaks.  To  behold  the  hand  of  God  in  Nature's  work  is 
truly  elevating  to  the  mind. 

There  is  a  gradual  descent  from  the  portico  to  the  falls; 
fine  ground?,  shaded  with  evergreens  ;  and  the  fragrance  of 


229 

flowers  is  wafted  on  the  morning  breeze.  At  the  descent  of  the 
hill  is  the  Spray  house,  which  stands  on  a  platform  projecting 
a  little  over  the  falls,  where  there  are  all  kinds  of  refresh- 
ments which  can  be  enjoyed  by  the  guests.  Here  we  can  view 
the  towering  mountains,  the  sunken  valleys,  twinkling  stars, 
and  gushing  waters  which  come  dashing  their  furious  foam 
over  a  precipice  of  rocks  180  feet  above  sea-level,  sending  their 
snow-white  spray  over  the  stony  cliffs  with  tremendous  force, 
and  gliding  on  down  over  the  second  falls,  which  are  eighty  feet 
above  the  surface.  This  is  one  of  Nature's  grand  panoramas, 
which  leaves  an  impression  on  the  mind  never  to  be  erased. 
We  can  gaze  on,  on,  until  the  soul's  admiration  is  truly  grati- 
fied. Turning  from  this  entrancing  picture,  we  stroll  through 
the  grove,  where  there  are  rustic  seats  and  benches.  There 
one  can  sit  and  watch  the  scenery  around,  by  sunlight  or  moon- 
light, and  be  reminded  of  Robert  Burns  and  his  Highland  Mary 
while  sitting  under  the  gay  green  birch,  and  inhaling  the  fra- 
grance of  the  hawthorn  blossoms. 

The  Sylvan  Lake  is  one  of  noted  interest,  as  there  are  pleas- 
ure row-boats  for  the  accommodation  of  the  guests.  This  is 
truly  a  Paradise,  but  not  Milton's  "  Lost."  The  croquet  grounds 
are  beautifully  shaded,  where  all  can  enjoy  this  game.  The 
billiard  rooms  are  large,  airy,  and  as  comfortable  as  the  main 
building.  There  are  fishing  ponds  and  shooting  grounds  con- 
nected with  this  resort,  which  is  a  luxury  rarely  heard  of.  It 
is  pleasant  to  enter  the  splendidly-furnished  parlors,  where 
everyone  is  perfectly  at  home,  and  can  enjoy,  on  a  cool  morn- 
ing, a  cheerful  wood-fire  in  the  good  old-fashioned  Franklin. 
It  is  also  truly  gratifying  to  behold  the  elegance  of  the 
table,  on  entering  the  dinning- room,  and  view  the  shining 
silver  and  clean  linen.  The  greatest  attractions  are  the  pleas- 
ant faces  and  kind  hearts  of  the  proprietor,  L.  Schutt,  and  his 
lovely  little  wife,  who  is  always  trying  to  render  her  guests 
happy.  We  will  close  our  article  by  writing  a  poem  on  Sunset 
Rock,  at  the  Laurel  House,  which  attracts  so  much  attention, 
while  the  beautiful  orb  of  day  is  resting  its  last  rays  on  the 
towering  fragments. 


THE  RISING   AND   SETTING    SUN. 

AT  SUNSET  HOCK. 


I  respectfully  dedicate  this  Poem  to  MBS.  LEWIS  SCHUTT,  of  the  Laurel 
House,  Cuuterskill  Falls. 

THOU  glorious  orb,  supremely  bright, 

Thou  art  shining  o'er  the  hills, 
To  show  thy  vast  and  glorious  light 

O'er  rocks  and  running  rills. 
Thou  art  the  eye  from  the  upper  world, 

That  overlooketh  land  and  sea  ; 
No  mortal  can  resist  thy  power,  — 

The  rose  bendeth  its  leaf  to  thee. 

Thy  scorching  touch  is  withering,  too  ; 

The  flower  beareth  not  thy  heat  ; 
It  blooms,  it  fades,  it  droops  and  dies— 

Not  so  with  the  golden  wheat. 
Thy  beams  come  forth  with  the  morning  light, 

From  a  brighter  world  on  high  ; 
Thy  rays,  illuminating  the  broad  earth, 

Spread  clear  for  us  the  blue  sky. 

The  eye  that  watches  from  other  worlds 

Is  fixed  in  a  sphere  above  ; 
It  reviews  the  earth  as  it  revolves  around, 

And  we  confess  that  "  God  is  love." 
There  is  no  orb  in  Heaven's  high  dome 

Can  compete  with  thy  bright  rays  ; 
Thy  course  is  onward,  and  still  the  same  ; 

The  world  will  ever  on  thee  gaze. 


8AKATOGA  SPRINGS. 

WHILE  on  business  at  Saratoga  a  short  time  ago,  we  were  tak- 
ing a  morning  walk  up  the  main  street  in  search  of  the  Wash- 
ingtoh  Springs.  On  ascending  the  hill  we  beheld  a  tremendous 
building,  situated  on  very  elevated  ground,  surrounded  by  por- 
ticoes, in  a  shady  grove,  where  umbrageous  trees  wave  their  ten- 
der branches  over  green  mounds,  which  form  a  circle  around  a 
portion  of  the  building.  From  this  hotel  extends  a  long  porch, 
through  which  guests  can  pass  to  the  Washington  Springs  with- 
out touching  their  feet  to  the  ground.  While  gazing  on  this 
exquisite  structure,  which  is  so  luxuriously  furnished,  an  idea 
came  into  our  mind — What  a  great  convenience  this  must  be, 
particularly  to  invalids,  as  they  can  reach  the  springs,  which  are 
but  a  few  steps  from  the  door,  and  enjoy  the  invigorating  waters 
this  well-known  spring  produces  !  The  mineral  being  a  tonic, 
there  are  no  springs  in  Saratoga  can  surpass  this  water.  It  may 
be  necessary  to  make  a  few  comments  on  the  dining-room,  as  it 
is  rare  tha-t  such  a  room  is  seen  with  so  many  chandeliers,  whose 
pendants  droop  like  diamonds,  which  dazzle  the  eye  of  the  be- 
holder. Every  luxury  the  market  can  afford  is  spread  before 
the  guests,  scientifically  cooked.  It  is  well  known  that  the 
Lelands  are  renowned  as  hotel-keepers. 


SPRING-TIME. 

I  respectfully  dedicate   this   Poem  to  CDAKLBS    E.    LELAND. 
WRITTEN  AT  WASHINGTON  SPRING,  SARATOGA. 

O  SPRING,  revivifying  spirit— hail,  all  hail ! 

Rejuvenating  nature  with  thy  smile. 
The  valleys  laugh  and  sing,  green  hill  and  vale, 

The  leafy  trees  all  clap  their  hands  the  while  ; 


232 

And  crickets  chirp,  and  bullfrogs'  twanging  cliords 
Delight  the  ear,  while  sea-birds  on  the  wing 

Kiss  sparkling  waves.     Creation  without  words 
Thus  breathes  a  jubilant  to  balmy  SPUING. 

Shall  we  be  mute,  nor  join  the  choral  choir  ? 
Ah  no,  with  "  deeds,  not  words,"  we'll  emulate 

Another  spring — rekindle  Nature's  fire, 
Man's  wintered  spirit  to  resuscitate. 

As  freely  thou  receivest,  freely  give  ; 
For  "  Mercy  is  twice  blest " — the  Almoner 

With  the  recipient  only  loves  to  live- 
Like  Spring,  reviving  human  hopes  with  her. 

For  hath  not  FLORA'S  magic  wand  transformed 

The  snowy  clouds  to  sun-lit  drops  of  rain  ? 
Dissolved  earth's  frosty  mantle,  aye,  and  warmed 

Each  honeyed  calyx  ?    Joy's  returned  again! 
The  snowdrop,  jonquil  and  unnumbered  flowers  ; 

Their  resurrections,  e'en  from  crystal  urns 
Are  hailed  with  rapture,  and  this  world  of  ours 

Is  "  Paradise  Regained  " — when  Spring  returns. 

Then  hail,  prolific  Genius !  and  instill 

In  human  hearts  a  love  that  is  divine, 
Invigored  by  keen  blasts — cold  cannot  kill 

The  glowing  sons  of  God.     With  bread  and  wine 
Mete  out  the  Sacrament ;  let  generous  grace 

Eaise  Gratitude  ;  pluck  out  Want's  frigid  sting  ; 
Let  tears  of  joy  baptize  the  human  face, 

As  ice,  to  dewdrops,  is  transformed  by  Spring. 


ALBANY,  N.  Y. 

IT  may  seem  monotonous,  to  some,  to  follow  on  in  a  series  of 
sketches  of  this  kind  ;  but,  as  the  season  is  approaching,  we  do 
not  know  that  it  is  out  of  place  to  speak  of  the  different  places 
of  pleasure  resort,  while  there  are  so  many  seeking  summer 
homes.  In  our  visit  to  Albany,  we  called  to  see  a  friend  who 
was  stopping  at  this  hotel.  Although  we  knew  the  reputation 
of  the  Lelands  as  hotel-keepers  could  not  be  surpassed  in  this 
country,  yet  we  must  confess,  the  elegance  of  this  house  is  truly 
dazzling  to  the  eyes.  We  feel  quite  sure  that  no  place  in  Paris 
or  London  can  even  compete  with  the  magnificence  of  the  Dela- 
van.  What  might  astonish  one  is  the  moderate  price  of  board, 
considering  the  luxuries  which  are  spread  before  their  guests. 

CHARLES  E.  LELAND, 

Proprietor. 


SARATOGA   SPRINGS. 

WE  do  not  doubt  but  that  there  are  many  persons  who  will 
be  delighted  to  hear  that  there  is  one  hotel  whose  proprietor  is  a 
physician,  as  we  are  always  liable  to  sickness.  This  house  has 
been  refitted,  handsomely  furnished,  and  will  be  kept  as  a  first- 
class  hotel  during  the  summer  months;  but  in  fall  and  winter 
as  a  medical  institute,  by  N.  Bedortha,  M.  D. ,  who  is  so  well 
known  to  the  people  of  Saratoga,  having  had  sixteen  years'  ex- 
perience in  that  town.  Many  of  his  patients  can  testify  to  hav- 
ing received  the  greatest  benefit,  in  a  short  time,  with  but  little 
expense  or  trouble.  Guests  can  avail  themselves  at  all  times  of 
medical  skill  and  advantages  to  receive  treatment  adapted  to 
their  cases.  The  various  baths,  well-cooked  food,  and  neat  table 
are  very  great  attractions  to  the  house.  This  hotel  contains 
large  rooms ;  the  sick  can  be  accommodated  with  good  nursing, 
and  those  who  enjoy  health  are  surrounded  by  the  society  of 
congenial  guests.  Strangers  should  not  overlook  this  sketch  ;  it 
may  prove  to  their  interest,  if  they  visit  Saratoga.  Prices  are 
moderate,  and  every  attention  is  lavished  upon  the  guests. 
Before  making  up  your  mind,  call  on  Dr.  Bedortha,  and  see 
his  elegant  establishment,  and  you  will  want  to  stay  with  him 
during  the  season. 


AT  THE  FOOT  OF  THE  CATSKILLS. 

WE  are  very  happy  to  learn  that  J.  E.  Lasher  has  opened  the 
hotel  above  named.  We  truly  regret  his  misfortune  in  losing 
the  Overlook  Mountain  House.  The  news  ran  through  our 
heart  like  an  electric  shock.  Having  lost  all  by  fire  once  our- 
selves, we  know  how  to  sympathize  with  others  who  have  met 
the  same  misfortune.  We  feel  assured,  if  the  guests  who  spent 
their  summers  at  the  Overlook  will  avail  themselves  of  the  op- 
portunity of  making  a  tour  to  Woodstock,  they  will  find  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Lasher  the  same  genial  souls,  knowing  how  to  manage 
a  hotel  with  as  much  discipline  as  they  did  when  they  were  at 
the  top  of  the  mountains.  They  are  equally  as  capable  of  mak- 
ing people  happy  as  in  the  days  gone  by.  We  do  not  doubt  for  a 
moment  but  that  Woodstock  will  become  as  famous  as  was  the 
Overlook,  for  the  scenery  which  surrounds  it  is  most  beautiful. 
His  vehicles  are  regularly  at  West  Hurley,  to  meet  guests 
at  the  cars. 


SARATOGA  SPRINGS. 

IN  noting  the  various  places  of  pleasure  resort,  we  should  not 
overlook  a  very  prominent  private  boarding-house  on  Circu- 
lar Street,  between  Phila  and  Spring  Streets,  opposite  Dr. 
Strong's  celebrated  Institute.  There  are  many  wealthy  persons 
who  are  sufficiently  able  to  pay  the  prices  of  the  most  extrava- 
gant hotel,  but  who  would  prefer  a  more  quiet  home,  where 
they  can  enjoy  spring  water  and  lovely  scenery,  and  where  the 
noise  and  bustle  of  fashionable  life  is  excluded.  To  such  per- 
sons we  can  recommend  the  Circular  Street  House,  as  a  large, 
commodious  building  in  modern  style,  elegantly  furnished,  and 
having  every  comfort  heart  can  wish.  Only  three  minutes' 
walk  to  the  Congress  and  Hathorn  Springs. 

J.  PALMER, 

Proprietor. 


SARATOGA  . 

THERE  will  be  crowds  of  strangers  this  season  at  Saratoga  ; 
this  we  do  not  doubt,  and  it  is  always  necessary  to  know,  when 
we  travel,  where  to  find  a  first-class  hotel ;  and,  as  experience 
is  always  the  best  teacher,  we  can  cheerfully  recommend  the 
American.  Having  stopped  at  this  house  a  few  weeks  ago,  we 
know  it  is  kept  in  first-class  style — fine  airy  rooms,  good 
board,  and  the  most  cordial  attention. 

BENNETT, 

Sole  Proprietor. 


SARATOGA. 

AMONG  our  sequestered  rambles  while  we  were  in  Saratoga, 
looking  a  little  way  off  from  the  Clarendon,  we  notice^  a  hand- 
some building,  which  is  kept  as  a  first-class  boarding  house. 
We  know  there  are  many  persons  who  will  be  glad  to  learn 
that  there  are  such  houses  at  this  pleasant  summer  resort,  as 
they  would  prefer  a  secluded  life  when  they  visit  this  water- 
ing place  for  health  only.  This  commodious  building  has  a 
piazza  surrounding  it,  shaded  by  a  row  of  beautiful  trees,  which 
evidently  is  a  great  attraction  to  the  house  in  hot  weather. 
J.  L.  HUESTIS, 

Proprietor. 


Music,  it  is  said,  liatli  charms  to  tame  the  savage  breast.  We 
feel  sure  that  music  has  a  great  impression  on  the  mind  of 
every  one.  King  David,  the  great  poet,  spoke  of  the  harp  of 
a  thousand  strings.  We  are  sure  that  the  old  king,  as  he  was 
BO  fond  of  music,  would  have  been  charmed  to  listen  to  the 
Ernst  piano,  which  is  one  among  the  best-known  instruments 
in  New  York.  It  has  an  exquisite  tone,  and  we  would  never 
weary  of  the  music  which  this  instrument  produces.  It  was 
established  in  1840.  Sole  successors  to  Lighte,  Newton  & 
Bradbury,  manufacturers  of  first-class  pianos. 

LIGHTE  &  ERNST, 

No.  12  East  14th  St. 


Wk,y  to  Ckt^kill. 


THOSE  who  want  to  go  to  this  beautiful  summer  retreat, 
made  poetic  by  its  surroundings  and  the  genius  of  some  of  our 
best  authors,  will  adopt  our  advice  to  take  the  steamers  New 
Champion  or  Walter  Brett,  Captains  Black  and  Donahue,  leav- 
ing New  York  every  evening,  at  6  o'clock,  from  foot  of  Canal 
Street,  and  enjoy  the  magnificent  scenery  of  the  noble  Hudson, 
surrounded  by  every  comfort  and  attention  an  earnest  desire  to 
please  can  suggest.  No  dust,  no  noise,  but  the  cool,  swift  pace 
that  makes  one  truly  happy  ;  and  we  usually  forget  the  carea 
of  life  while  enjoying  such  a  pleasant  sail  up  the  river. 
BLACK  &  DONAHUE, 

Proprietors. 


of 


As  there  are  thousands  who  may  be  traveling  this  summer 
who  would  like  to  know  how  to  get  to  Saratoga,  we  would  state 
that  the  pleasant  steamers  Sunnyaide  and  Thomas  Powell  leave 
New  York  daily  at  6  P.  M.,  Saturdays  excepted;  also  Sundays 
at  6  P.  M.  The  fare  from  New  York  to  Troy  is  only  $1.00, 
being  40  cents  cheaper  than  by  the  way  of  Albany.  It  is  a 
very  pleasant  trip  up  the  Hudson,  during  the  warm  weather,  as 
a  moonlight  sail  is  always  romantic. 

G.  W.  HORTON,  JOSEPH  CORNELL, 

Gen'l  Agent,  Troy,  N.  Y.  Gen'l  Sup't,  New  York. 


Upright  §mno8, 


HAVE  OBTAINED  THE  Hl&HEST  HONORS 

Ever  awarded  to  any  Piano  Manufacturer  in  the  World.    First 
of  the  Grand  Gold  Medals  of  Honor, 

WOKLD'S  FAIE,  PAEIS,  1867.    LONDON,  1862, 

The  world's  greatest  pianists  and  composers,  including  the  renowned  Dr. 
Franz  Liszt,  Anton  Rubinstein,  Berlioz,  Kullak,  Henselt,  Jaell,  Marmontel, 
Gounod,  the  Academies  of  Fine  Arts  of  Paris,  Berlin  and  Stockholm,  Professor 
Helmholz,  of  Berlin,  the  highest  authority  in  the  science  of  Acoustics,  as  well 
as  the  piano-purchasing  public  of  Europe  and  America,  all  unite  in  the  unani- 
mous verdict  of  the  Superiority  of  the  Steinway  Piano  over  all 
others,  and  declare  it  to  be  the  Standard  Piano  of  the  World. 

All  American  Piano  manufacturers,  without  exception,  and  a  large  number 
of  the  most  celebrated  European  makers,  have  been  forced  to  copy  the  Stein  way 
scales,  peculiarities  of  construction,  and  various  improvements,  and  to  adopt 
the  Steiiiway  Overstrung  System. 

Of  their  immense  number  of  testimonials,  STEINWAY  &  SONS  beg  to  submit 
the  following  : 

ANTON  RUBINSTEIN. 

NEW  YOKE,  May  34,  1873. 
Messrs.  STEIKWAT  &  SDKS, 

Gentlemen,  —  On  the  eve  of  returning  to  Europe,  I  deem  it  my  pleasant  duty 
to  express  to  yon  my  most  heartfelt  thanks  for  all  the  kindness  and  courtesy 
you  have  shown  me  during  my  stay  in  the  United  States;  but  also,  and  above 
all,  for  your  unrivalled  Pianofortes,  which  once  more  have  done  full  justice  to 
their  world-wide  reputation,  both  for  excellence  and  capacity  of  enduring  the 
severest  trials.  For,  during  all  my  long  and  difficult  journeys  all  over  America, 
in  a  very  inclement  season,  I  used  and  have  been  enabled  to  use  your  pianos 
exclusively  in  my  215  concerts,  and  also  in  private,  with  the  most  eminent 
satisfaction  and  effect.  Yours  very  truly, 

ANTON  RUBINSTEIN. 
DR.  FRANZ  LISZT. 

WEIMAR,  September  3d,  1873. 
Messrs.  STEINWAY  &  SONS, 

Gents.—  The  magnificent  Steinway  Grand  Piano  now  stand?  in  my  music 
room,  and  presents  a  harmonic  totality  of  admirable  qualities,  a  detailed 
enumeration  of  which  is  the  more  superfluous  as  this  instrument  fully  justifies 
the  world-wide  reputation  that  for  years  you  have  everywhere  enjoyed. 

After  so  much  well-deserved  praise,  permit  me  to  also  add  my  homage  and 
the  expression  of  my  undisguised  admiration,  with  which  I  remain, 
Very  sincerely  yours, 

FRANZ  LISZT. 

EVERY  PIANO  WARRANTED  FOR  FIVE  YEARS. 
Prices  as  low  as  the  exclusive  use  of  the  best  materials  and  most  thorough 
workmanship  will  permit.    Old  Pianos  taken  in  exchange. 
^^°  Illustrated  Catalogues,  with  Price  List,  mailed  free  on  application. 

STEINWAY  &  SONS'  Warerooms, 

Steinway  Hall,  109  &  111  East  14th  St.,  N.  Y, 


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